


my reputation's never been worse (you must like me for me)

by thylionheart



Series: if my heart was a house, you'd be home [11]
Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018), Kairos (O'Keefe) Series - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: (bc I'm trash for cuddles), (it's...relatively mild but i'm still tagging it), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bullying, Crying, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, IF YOU THOUGHT MY 6K FIC WAS LONG THIS IS LITERALLY ALMOST 4X THE LENGTH OF THAT ONE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Non-Consensual Kissing, Kissing, Middle School, Post-Movie, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Harassment, napping together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylionheart/pseuds/thylionheart
Summary: Meg and Calvin deal with the fallout of their relationship becoming public.*not a standalone*





	1. Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Whew.....y’all, this fic took me 5 months to write.
> 
> A "few" notes to begin:
> 
> Firstly, this fic is primarily Meg-centric, though Calvin’s own demons do have a cameo. Since this series has been primarily centered on Calvin and his home life, I decided it was high time for Meg to have a fic dedicated to her.
> 
> Second, this fic has 5 chapters. It got so long that I needed to break it up. You might be wondering why I didn't release it chapter by chapter; well, by the time I realized just how long it was going to be, it was too late and I figured I might as well finish it. Plus, I like being able to work on the installment as a whole, so that I can change details and make it cohesive and self-referential. It flows better that way.
> 
> Third, this fic touches on some issues like sexual harassment and unwanted advances; in my opinion, it's relatively mild, and the only thing that could be considered graphic is a non-consensual kiss. Even in that instance, it's a referenced event, not an active one. But this is the reason why this fic is rated T.
> 
> Fourth, this fic also addresses bullying. It was quite difficult to figure out the level of bullying I wanted the characters to experience, and I decided to have the levels fluctuate a bit, so some events are melodramatic while others are more serious. (Boy, do I remember how melodramatic middle school was for me. One girl in my grade punched another for talking to the boy she liked. Wow.)
> 
> Fifth, there are characters in this that could be considered "OCs"; a few are minor characters in the movies: Veronica's clique, who aren't given names in the movie but are given names in the tie along book "A Guide to the Universe", include Elle Blumenthal, Adriana Gonzales, and Lorna McGuire. Another character named in that book is a boy named Tristan (I give him a last name in this fic), and one of his past bullying incidents toward Meg that I address in this fic actually happened in that book. Other characters beyond that I completely made up to fill space and give more important characters people to bounce off of. Because a real middle school isn't made up of only 5 kids.
> 
> Sixth, since the ending of the movie offered a glimmer of redemption for Veronica, that is the route I am taking for this fic. But it was important to me to make her arc a bit messy, if that makes sense. She doesn’t have a heart of gold. She has flaws. She still thinks poorly of Meg. The same goes for the other minor characters. They’re messy, they’re flawed, and most of them, even some of the bullies, have good qualities. I did my best to make them feel like people you could actually meet in real life. The “A Guide to the Universe” also confirms a theory I had before the movie came out: that Veronica and Meg used to be best friends. So in terms of the movie-verse, that’s canon.
> 
> Lastly, there is one chapter with a surprise POV. I will let that remain a secret.
> 
> The title is from Delicate by Taylor Swift.
> 
> All right, here we go.

* * *

  **TUESDAY.**

“Four letters, ends in an ‘H’—‘hyperbolic function.’”

“Mm, that doesn’t narrow it down. There’re six options.” Meg leaned over Calvin’s shoulder to peer at the crossword puzzle in his lap. “What does it start with?”

Calvin pinched his lips together in concentration, which prompted Meg to smile. He looked so cute when he did that. “Uhh…oh, 25-across is gonna be ‘tee’ for ‘golf prop’, so it’ll start with a ‘T’.”

“Tanh, then. T-A-N-H.”

“Thank you,” her boyfriend hummed, scribbling in the answer. The couple sat beneath their lunch-time maple tree, enjoying the winter sun and each other. Yesterday had been the first day back to school after winter break. Though she wished she could’ve stayed home for another week or two, Meg took comfort in these lunch breaks they shared, a time when she could pretend that the world consisted of only her and Calvin.

“I don’t understand how you can only use pen,” Meg said, dusting sandwich crumbs off her hands.

“Eh, I just don’t like how pencil smudges so easily on newspaper.”

“But what if you mess up?”

“Then I just write over it. And when I’m home, I use the white-out your dad keeps in the kitchen junk drawer.”

Whenever he referred to her house as his home, Meg’s heart skipped a beat. Calvin didn’t spend all of his time there, though he certainly tried to; he’d spent the past week and a half at his other home with his mother, only sneaking out on December 31st to celebrate the New Year with the Murrys. Not that his mother had noticed.

Meg started playing with the lapel of his jacket. With a cursory glance around the courtyard to make sure they were alone, Calvin kissed her.

Kissing at school always filled Meg with an odd mixture of fear and thrill. Not only did their school have a policy against PDA, but none of their classmates knew they were dating. Their romance might not have been forbidden, per se, but it was certainly secret, and every stolen kiss sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through her blood. But if someone were to walk into the courtyard at that moment, all that adrenaline would morph into utter panic.

Calvin didn’t share her fear. He had no reason to. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t careful for her sake. Even when he’d initially been against keeping their relationship a secret, he had never tried to pressure her into doing anything otherwise, something Meg appreciated more than she could say.

Their kiss didn’t last long. The bell rang, its harsh trill echoing throughout the courtyard. The couple separated with reluctant sighs before packing up and continuing on to their next class.

 

* * *

 

Calvin shoved a copy of _Animal Farm_ into his backpack as he stepped out of literature class. Other students leaving the class grumbled about the surprise pop quiz, and he couldn’t help but smile. Meg had literature third period, when he had science, and she had warned him about the quiz. Unfortunately, she herself had failed it. Most of the class had, and so Mr. Olivier had decided to give out a few extra credit worksheets. Calvin had grabbed extra in case Meg had been too stubborn to get some for herself.

As he turned down the hall, he noticed that a cluster of girls had surrounded his and Meg’s lockers. Immediately he recognized Meg; when he got closer, he realized that the other girls all made up Veronica’s clique.

Closest to Calvin was Lorna McGuire. She was apart of the school’s unimpressive student newspaper club, and had dark skin and box braids that fell past her elbows. Next to her hovered Adriana Gonzales, a tall, slender volleyball player whose hair was nearly as curly as Meg’s but whose skin was darker. Front and center stood Elle Blumenthal—half-Dutch, half-Mexican, with blinding white teeth and smooth black hair.

Despite the fact that this clique was considered by most of the school to be Veronica’s, the true force to be reckoned with was Elle. A member of the debate team, she was intelligent but intense, callous, and insensitive, even toward her own friends. Meg tried to hide it, but Calvin could tell that Elle was the only member of the group that legitimately scared her.

He stopped short before he reached Meg, and his heart sank into his stomach. Taped to her locker, written in a cutesy cursive font, were several large notes that all read the same word: _Slut_. When Meg turned her head, Calvin saw a large wad of pink gum stuck in her hair, just above her ear. It looked as though she had tried unsuccessfully to pull it out, and now the gum was stretched and tangled throughout her curls.

Anger jolted through Calvin. He tore down the notes before turning a glare on Meg’s tormentors. They had all been smirking, but under his livid gaze their smiles faded.

“You’re really scraping the bottom of the rumor barrel today,” Calvin said, and threw the crumpled notes at their feet. “You’re not even trying to hide how ridiculous your lies are anymore.”

Elle Blumenthal wavered for a moment; then, she crossed her arms and sneered.

“Aw, look, lover boy’s come to rescue his darling damsel-in-distress. How _sweet._ ”

It was Calvin’s turn to falter. He cast a startled look at Meg, whose eyes had gone so wide her irises were like dark islands in a sea of white. Her lip quivered.

“Meg…”

Before he could say anything further she pushed past him and fled, vanishing into the throng of ambling students.

“Meg!”

Sharp laughter stopped Calvin in his tracks. He whirled back to the giggling girls and glowered.

“What is it about hurting others that makes you so happy?” he snapped. “How does someone else’s pain make you feel better about yourselves?”

Lorna and Adriana stopped laughing and stared at him, clearly taken aback. Calvin hardly ever raised his voice at school. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Veronica duck behind Adriana. It wasn’t until later that he realized how odd that last part truly was. Veronica had always been a leader, not a follower. But there had been hesitation in her eyes, and maybe, just maybe, a flicker of guilt.

Only Elle stood firm. “You might wanna raise your sights, Calvin. You could do better. Infinitely better.”

“My sights are set, Elle,” he retorted. “Better doesn’t exist.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Calvin ran after Meg. He dodged past the other students until he reached the only place he imagined she’d go for refuge.

The music room was dark and empty, and would remain that way throughout the last two periods of the day. The bell rang shrilly as Calvin opened the door. Out of instinct he hesitated, but then he quickly shook off his reservation and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The last time Calvin had been in this classroom, Meg had dragged him inside to confront him about his father’s abuse. How _long_ ago that now seemed; it felt to him as though years had passed rather than months.

“Meg?” he called softly. “It’s me. Are you in here?”

There was a shuffling noise in the back corner—then, what sounded like a sniffle. Calvin floated past chairs and open cases of instruments until he reached the upright piano, which sat about five feet from the back wall. He looked behind it and saw Meg tucked against the wall, hugging her knees and crying. On the floor beside her lay scissors and a gunky mess of brown and pink. She’d impulsively lopped off a few chunks of her hair. Thankfully, her curls were thick and there wasn’t a bald patch in sight, but the hair just above and right behind her ear was frightfully choppy.

Kicking away the scissors and the gross, gummy clump, he sat beside her. She continued staring at her shoes.

“How bad is it?” she whispered.

Calvin studied her hair, then sighed. “It’s…it’s not great, but I don’t think it’s anything your mom can’t fix.”

He leaned in to kiss her temple, but Meg flinched back.

“Sorry,” she blurted, and buried her face in her hands.

“The notes?”

“…Yeah.”

Calvin pulled at his fingers, trying to wring out his anger so it wouldn’t show in his voice. He’d hate for Meg to assume his anger was directed at her. “It’s not true. I mean, I know you know it’s not true, since we’ve never—even if we had, you still wouldn’t be—” His ring finger popped and he shook out his hands. “There’s absolutely _nothing_ wrong with us being together. You hear me? _Nothing._ Please, my Meg, don’t let them convince you otherwise.”

Slowly, he offered her his hand. Meg trembled, and she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck.

“They found out,” she whispered. “How’d they find out?”

“I don’t know.”

“It makes me so angry, so angry I could scream! Why can’t they just leave me alone? Why can’t they just let us be?”

“I don’t know. But I’m gonna stick with you, okay? They’re not gonna split us apart. Darker forces have tried and failed.”

“Promise?”

Calvin tilted her chin up until their eyes met. “Promise? Of course I promise, Meg. You’re my best friend. And nothing those jerks might do or say could ever change that.”

A sound not unlike a whimper caught in Meg’s throat. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“So are you,” he murmured, and punctuated each word with a kiss; on her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, chaste but sincere.

“I take it back. You’re ridiculous.” But she buried her face in his neck all the same.

A quiet minute passed. Calvin murmured, “Hey, Meg?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we still gonna hide our relationship? I mean, we don’t know how much they know, and—”

“What’s the point?” Her voice was sad. “If I ask you to deny it, I’ll get bullied for it. If we make it public, I’ll get bullied for it. Might as well get bullied for the truth instead of a lie. At least then we don’t have to pretend like we’re not together anymore.”

Calvin rubbed her back. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this mean I can hold your hand in the halls now?”

“…Yeah.”

“What about kissing?” He tried to keep his question light and a bit teasing.

Meg thumped his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck.”

Despite her bantering tone, her voice quavered. Calvin drew out of the embrace so he could look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. Should I stop talking about this? I don’t wanna freak you out.”

“I’m already freaked out. We’re late for class, and they probably think we’re off making out or—” She bit her lip. “But…yeah, can we talk about this later?”

Calvin nodded. “Do you wanna go back to class?”

“No, I’m not…I’m not ready.”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Meglet, you should have gone to a teacher.” Dr. Kate’s hands expertly divided her daughter’s hair into different sections, then used a pair of styling shears to dry cut each individual curl. “They could have used peanut butter to work out the gum.”

“Oh, that would’ve made everything _so_ much better,” replied Meg sarcastically. “Having a teacher manhandle my hair and put peanut butter on it in front of everyone.”

She was sitting on the coffee table, her mom behind her on the couch. Beside her mother sat Calvin, acting as Dr. Kate’s little helper. He would pick up stray locks to throw away and hand Dr. Kate hair products when she asked. As much as he wished Meg hadn’t cut out the gum herself, he had to agree—letting a teacher spread peanut butter on her head would’ve been far more humiliating for Meg than having her mom restyle her hair.

The microbiologist sighed. “Well, you were due for a trim. But your hair is going to be shorter than you normally like it.”

When all was said and done, Dr. Kate spun her daughter around, giving her a hand mirror and a rosy smile. “There. I think it looks lovely.”

“It feels bouncier than before.”

“You have more layers than before.”

And more volume, too. The shorter layers meant less weight, which meant tighter curls and an airer appearance. It suited her gloriously.

“You look beautiful,” Calvin told her. He was only a little embarrassed to say so in front of her mother.

Meg smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

The doorbell rang. Dr. Kate stood to answer it and Meg moved to sit next to Calvin. Grinning, he cupped her face and pressed her hair against her cheeks. She giggled.

“Oh.” Across the room drifted Dr. Kate’s voice. “Veronica.”

Alarm flooded Meg’s eyes and she jerked to her feet.

“This is a…surprise. Come on in.”

“Wait, Mom—” Meg started, but it was too late. Veronica Kiley stepped into the threshold of the house.

Calvin stood with Meg. He took her hand in his own defiantly, and she inched closer to him.

“Um. Hi,” Veronica said awkwardly.

Dr. Kate sensed the tension between the kids and cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh, be in the kitchen.”

As soon as her mother left, Meg glared at Veronica. “What are you doing here?”

Veronica didn’t reply. She looked around the house and murmured to herself, “I haven’t been in here in forever…”

Meg stamped her foot, startling the other girl out of her reverie. “Why are you here?”

“Oh—I, um,” Veronica shifted from foot to foot. “I came to…apologize.”

Neither Meg nor Calvin had expected that. Their jaws dropped to the floor.

“For today,” continued their classmate, “and…and every other day. But today especially. I’ve known that you’ve been dating for months now—at least, I’ve suspected.”

Calvin’s eyebrows knit together. “And you only just now told your friends?”

“No! No, I didn’t tell them. I figured that if you guys were keeping it on the DL, there was a reason.”

“Oh, and I wonder what that reason could be,” Calvin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Meg stayed silent.

Guilt flashed across Veronica’s face; this time, Calvin was certain he had not imagined it.

He sighed. “How’d they find out?”

“Yesterday, Elle forgot something in the history classroom and went to get it during lunch. And then she, um, saw you two kiss through the window.”

Beside him, Meg tensed. That spot under the maple tree had been their own little haven, safe from prying eyes—or so they had thought.

“She came back to the cafeteria practically fuming. The whole school probably knows by now.” Veronica’s eyes darted from the floor, to the couple, and then back to the floor. “Elle’s not exactly tight-lipped. But I didn’t think she’d—”

“What, harass me like you’ve all been doing for the past four years?” Meg burst out suddenly. “What did you _think_ was gonna happen? Did you think we’d all hold hands and sing kumbaya and she’d congratulate me on finally, _finally_ being happy again?” 

Her voice shook with anger, and Calvin saw tears brimming in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry—”

But Meg shook her head. “I can’t stand the sight of you. Get out of my house!”

She ran across the room and up the stairs, leaving Calvin and Veronica alone.

Calvin’s immediate instinct was to follow Meg, but there was something in Veronica’s eyes that stopped him—a sadness he had not expected.

“You know,” she began quietly, “We used to be best friends. Meg and I. It’s hard not to be when you’re neighbors. Then her dad went missing, and I screwed it all up by telling her that he probably ran off with another woman.”

She rubbed at her eyes, and Calvin realized she was crying.

“I was just repeating what my mom had said. I didn’t even believe it. But I still said it.”

“Why now?” asked Calvin slowly. “It’s been four years. Why are you just now apologizing?”

He thought, perhaps, he knew why. Ever since Meg had rescued Charles Wallace and weakened the IT, Veronica had grown more passive and less assertive at school. The darkness’ hold on her, he surmised, had diminished.

Veronica only shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s too late now, anyhow.”

“Look, Veronica.” Calvin ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “You can’t expect to heal four years worth of bullying and broken trust in a day, and you can’t just _tell_ Meg you’re sorry. You have to _show_ her. Talk is cheap. Invest in your actions.”

With that, he climbed up the stairs after Meg.

 

* * *

 

“How dare she come into my house and expect me to just—just roll over and forgive her!” Meg paced across the length of her room, gesturing wildly with her arms. 

On the floor, Rosie watched her march with wide, anxious eyes and mewed restlessly. Calvin gathered the cat into his arms and sat on Meg’s bed. He said nothing.

“How can she expect me to forget all the awful things she’s said to me? What, am I supposed to believe that she didn’t mean any of it? That she didn’t mean to spy on me from her window in order to fill her gossip quota, that she didn’t mean tell me _over_ and _over_  again that my father left because of what crazy freaks me and my family are? She didn’t try to stop her friends at all today. She watched as Lorna stuck gum in my hair and didn’t say a word!”

Meg kicked at a pile of clothes with a furious screech. Rosie hissed, startled.

“I can’t believe I used to be friends with her! I even almost made her an enfolded heart, like the one I gave you. She was my best friend. My only friend. And then she…she mocked me by telling me that my dad probably left my mom for someone else.”

“I know. She told me.”

That got Meg’s attention. “She _told_ you? When?”

“Just now. Before I came up. She was crying.”

“Oh, am I supposed to feel sorry for her now?”

“Meg, I didn’t say that.”

“She’s always done that! Played the victim, weaseled her way out of punishments with crocodile tears. Tormenting me was somehow a twisted kind of justice in her mind, because of course _she_ couldn’t be responsible for our friendship falling apart. Oh no, that was _my_ fault. I’m just a high-strung, unstable neurotic who deserved to have her daddy disappear.”

Calvin chewed his lip. “Veronica told me it was her fault. She said she screwed up your friendship by repeating what her mom said about your father, even though she didn’t believe it.”

Surprise flooded Meg’s eyes—then she scoffed. “‘Even though she didn’t believe it’? Could’ve fooled me.” Her voice took on a nasal tone, and she began quoting, “‘You’re such a waste of space, Peggy, no wonder your daddy left. He probably abandoned you because he couldn’t stand what a nuisance you are. It’s a wonder you haven’t driven your mommy away, too.’”

Meg picked up a stray shirt and chucked it across the room. It landed atop the old dollhouse and knocked a toy chair onto the floor with a loud clatter.

“How can she expect me to forgive her after everything she’s said and done to me!”

Calvin set Rosie aside and quietly beckoned Meg over. Grumbling, she crossed the room and stood in front of him, still too agitated to sit. 

“No one is expecting you to forgive Veronica at the drop of a hat.” He gave her his hands and let her play restively with his fingers. “Not even Veronica. She bullied you for four years; your anger is perfectly valid. But…”

Meg frowned.

“Give it time. Don’t take forgiveness off the table. She’s feeling this guilt for a reason, and I think it’s because of what you did on Camazotz.”

“I…I didn’t even think about that,” admitted Meg. “But I still don’t think I can ever become friends with her again.”

“I didn’t say anything about friendship, Meg. Forgiveness doesn’t mean trusting or befriending. It doesn’t mean she deserves to be forgiven, and it doesn’t mean that suddenly what she did to you is okay. It just means that you put aside your anger and move on, not just for her sake, but for yours as well. And forgiveness like this, about the big stuff, the heavy stuff, is never just one-and-done. You’ll be at peace one day, and then burning with anger the next. I know.” Calvin’s voice grew quiet. “I haven’t forgiven my parents.”

Meg touched his cheek, her eyes sad.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, just—just don’t completely disregard Veronica’s apology, okay? People can change. It’s been known to happen.”

“…Why her?”

“What?”

“Why is Veronica of all people free of the IT’s grip?”

“I don’t know. Maybe its grip on her was never very strong, or maybe…maybe some people choose to embrace the darkness.”

He didn’t add what he was thinking— _like my parents_ —but Meg seemed to understand nonetheless. She ran her fingers through the hair by his temple, tracing a path behind his ear to his jaw, then back again.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Dr. Kate peeked through the open door and knocked three times on the jamb.

“Meglet, I could hear you yelling and stomping from all the way down in the kitchen. And look, poor Rosencrantz is terrified. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Calvin looked up at Meg and scowled when she quickly shook her head at her mother.

“Not even about Veronica’s visit?”

Another shake of the head.

Dr. Kate sighed. “Well, in that case, come on downstairs and help me with dinner. I’m juggling roasted potatoes, garlic bread, and an experiment in the lab. Speaking of which”—she checked her watch—“the potatoes have about two minutes left in the oven. Calvin, my husband’s outside barbecuing, and he could probably use your help as well.”

Meg and Calvin nodded, and Dr. Kate left. Before Meg could leave, Calvin caught the hem of her shirt.

“Why don’t you wanna talk with your mom about what happened?”

“I already know what she’d say.” Meg shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “She’d tell me to walk away. Use my words. Don’t stoop to their level.”

“That’s not exactly bad advice, Meg.”

She finally returned his gaze. “Then why hasn’t it ever helped?”

Calvin didn’t have an answer.


	2. Wednesday

* * *

  **WEDNESDAY.**

“Alright, Group C, work on your dribbling skills while Groups A and B run through their match. Let’s go, hustle up!”

Coach Stewart blew her whistle, harsh and shrill, and clapped her hands together. Shuffling to the left, Meg followed Group C to the sidelines of the soccer pitch. Calvin walked beside her and chatted with his friends Deandre and Jaime.

Deandre Reid was a dark-skinned boy with black hair sheered into a buzzcut and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose. A dedicated member of the school’s art club, he almost always had a pen in his hands, either twirling it between his thumb and forefinger or doodling on the closest scrap of paper, be it a napkin or a worksheet. Somehow, he was both soft-spoken and a motor-mouth. Meg didn’t have much of an opinion of him, and he didn’t seem to like the fact that she was now hanging around, either. But he tolerated her, and for that she was silently appreciative.

Next to him was Jaime Bautista, Calvin’s best friend—other than Meg. The Latino boy had tightly curled brown hair cropped longer on top and faded on the sides. He’d dyed a small section in the front a golden blond. Though she didn’t talk to him, Meg enjoyed being around him. Jaime was kind and goofy, and he didn’t give her the stink-eye like the rest of their classmates. But her cynicism and distrust convinced Meg that his kindness was nothing more than him being a good friend to Calvin. Of course he didn’t view her as a friend. No one but Calvin did.

A soccer ball struck her shin and she nearly tripped. She tried to kick it back to the kid who had lost it, but it sailed in the wrong direction and the kid groaned. Meg stuck out her tongue at him like a five-year-old.

Gym was her least favorite class. But it was one of only three classes she shared with Calvin, and his presence made even the most frustrating athletic drills bearable.

“Yo, O’Keefe.”

At first, Meg didn’t turn around. People often came up to converse with her boyfriend; he was charming, popular, and a joy to be around. No one ever wanted to talk with her, so why should she bother to give them her attention?

But then, Calvin responded. “Hey, Tristan. What’s up?”

Meg stopped in her tracks, and her blood ran cold.

Tristan Novak was the school’s star baseball pitcher, second only to Calvin in popularity. Most of the girls in their class found him incredibly cute; he had tan, almost bronze skin, wavy black hair that curled around his ears, and green eyes that Meg had once overheard boy-crazy Lorna McGuire describe as “like emeralds”.

But whereas Lorna had never been the target of his tormenting, Meg was all too familiar with it. Tristan was vain and arrogant and, like Elle, took pleasure in taunting Meg. He had even tried to hit her in an outburst of anger around six months back. At the time he’d been calling her names and making fun her clothes as immature boys often do, and she had responded with an insult that had wounded his overly inflated ego. Surrounded by his friends and a handful of their peers, Tristan’s ears had flamed red and he’d taken a swing at her. Meg had managed to dodge his strike and shove him back, and the boy had hit his face on the ground at an angle, leaving him with a black eye. Of course, since their classmates adored Tristan and disliked Meg, no one had told Principal Jenkins that the baseball player had thrown the first punch, and he’d gotten off scot-free whilst Meg had received detention.

Tristan’s bullying had grown less frequent after that, yet simultaneously more severe. Gone were the days of petty name-calling. Instead she received cruel and rather crude notes in her locker—which Meg hastily threw away before Calvin could see—and hard yanks on her hair in the halls between classes. Even then, Tristan was careful to never, ever harass her around Calvin.

Now, Meg stood dumbstruck as Tristan sneered at Calvin, his hands shoved in his pockets as if he hadn’t a care in the world. A handful of his friends stood behind him.

“Rumor has it you and Murry here are a thing _._ ” Tristan’s voice was laced with mockery; Meg suspected that he disbelieved the rumor and was expecting Calvin to deny the claim and, in the process, humiliate her. His friends snickered like the notion of them dating was preposterous.

Calvin looked at Meg with a question in his eyes. She crossed her arms but moved closer to him with a nod.

“Rumor’s right,” said Calvin, meeting Tristan’s eyes with a level stare.

The baseball star blinked, his smile faltering. “Wait, you serious?”

“Since August.”

Tristan was like a picture book: easy to read. Confusion, embarrassment, and irritation flickered across his face. Meg felt a twinge of satisfaction as his ears turned red. He had intended to humiliate her, yet now he was the one looking like a fool, not only in front of her and Calvin, but in front of his friends as well.

But then his demeanor shifted. Something unsettling gleamed in his eyes and he flashed a smile that looked more like a snarl. Tristan stepped forward, looking Meg up and down far, far too slowly. No one had ever looked at her like that before. It was a look that set off alarm bells in her head and sent an uneasy chill down her spine. When he spoke he addressed Calvin, but his gaze never left Meg.

“Damn, guess that fat mouth of hers is good for something if it can win you over, O’Keefe.”

His words turned Meg’s stomach and her mouth went dry; it was clear by his lecherous tone that he wasn’t referring to kissing. Tristan noticed her discomfort; his leering grin grew wider and he laughed.

Meg wanted to scream. He found this _amusing._ In his mind, this was all just a cruel joke. Her hands balled into fists and she desperately fought the urge to punch him. She had already been reprimanded twice that year for physical violence; one more strike, and she’d get suspended. After all that had happened in recent months, she couldn’t bear the thought of putting that stress back on her mother. Normally, Meg would’ve opted for a verbal backlash in lieu of her fists, but in her anxiety she could barely form a coherent thought beyond one word: _Leave!_

Calvin, on the other hand, bristled and stepped between Tristan and Meg. “What the hell did you just say?”

The crowd around them exchanged stunned looks. At school, Calvin rarely let himself display any sort of negative emotion, let alone anger.

Tristan smirked, seemingly pleased that his words had secured such an effect. “Ooh, Calvin O’Keefe _does_ have a temper. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Cal, let’s just go,” whispered Meg. She grasped his hand.

Calvin softened under her pleading gaze. He nodded, and they turned to leave.

“Aw, c’mon,” Tristan whined like a petulant child deprived of his toy. “We were just starting to have some fun!”

Meg felt something hook under her bra strap and pull so hard she stumbled backward and nearly tripped. There was the slightest ripping sound as the collar of her already-ratty gym shirt tore. Disgust and panic stole her breath as Tristan tugged the strap almost completely off her shoulder. His fingertips and nails left a sickening trail of fire across her skin.

She whirled around and shoved him away with a cry of outrage. “Get off me!”

The next thing she knew Tristan was sprawled across the ground, holding his nose as blood trickled between his fingers. Calvin stood over him, his knuckles red. A collective gasp shuddered through the flock of onlookers.

Tristan sat up, leaned over, and spat blood onto the dirt. He sniffed, then howled in pain and swore loudly. “You broke mah nose!”

Calvin looked at Meg. His left hand was shaking. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though she hardly heard him. Fingers numb, she fumbled to fix her bra.

He turned back to Tristan, eyes burning with rage. Meg had never seen him so angry. “Don’t you _ever_ touch her like that again.”

“Calvin!” Jaime shook him. “ _Broki_ , we gotta go. Coach is coming.”

Most of the others had already scattered, especially now that Tristan’s cries of pain had attracted the attention of the gym teacher. But Calvin didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled Meg close and held her as she trembled. Tristan’s words and actions had left her rattled, and she wanted nothing more than to go home and scrub the feeling of his touch off her skin.

“I got you, Nutmeg,” Calvin whispered in her ear. “I got you.”

“Calvin O’Keefe!” Coach Stewart spoke in the sharp, punctuated, almost comical voice only furious teachers could have. “Principal’s office—now!”

 

* * *

 

Inside the office, Coach Stewart gestured for Calvin to sit down before walking into the principal’s room to inform Mr. Jenkins of the situation. A couple minutes passed, slow as molasses. Calvin examined his left hand; his knuckles were beginning to bruise.

The way that Tristan had looked at Meg had branded itself into his mind. When Meg had let out a frantic shriek and staggered back, he’d turned around to see Tristan’s hand partway down her shirt. Everything after that was a blur, right up until the moment he had enveloped Meg in his arms.

Calvin had never experienced such burning anger before. It felt as if hot coals had settled in his stomach, the embers flickering up his throat and back down into his ribcage, setting his lungs on fire. But that flame had died as soon as Meg had clung to his chest, shaking and breathing unsteadily. All he’d cared about in that moment was helping her feel safe, and it had ached to let her go and follow Coach Stewart to the office. The last thing he had seen before being escorted off the field was Jaime draping his hoodie over Meg’s shoulders to hide the tear in her shirt’s collar.

A memory suddenly surged into the forefront of his mind, unprompted and unwelcome. He groaned and bent his head, resting his elbows on his knees as buried feelings of anger and resentment rose sharply to the surface.

No. That had nothing to do with what just happened. This was about Meg, not him. Not that.

“Calvin.”

Looking up, Calvin saw Jenkins standing in the doorway of his office, watching him sternly. He motioned for him to enter.

Once they had both gotten situated—Jenkins behind the desk, Calvin sitting stock-straight in front of it—the principal crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He did that a lot, Calvin noted. _Lean_. As if the right angle would allow him to peer into someone’s soul.

“Ms. Stewart told me that you punched Tristan Novak and broke his nose. Is that correct?”

A tiny, tiny sliver of doubt stuck itself in the back of Calvin’s mind; he swiftly flicked it away. He wasn’t exactly proud of his actions, but he knew that to defend Meg, he would do it again in a heartbeat. “Yes, sir.”

He waited for Jenkins to ask him why, but the principal simply sighed and said, “Calvin, you have been an exemplary student since kindergarten. Never once reprimanded or given detention. But this year marks _twice_ you’ve been in my office stirring up trouble.”

Calvin tensed. The only other time he’d sat in this office was when Meg had convinced him to confide in Jenkins about his father’s abuse.

“It is my understanding that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Meg Murry,” Jenkins continued. “She was with you when you hit Tristan, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“And she was the one who brought you to my office the first time. I’m beginning to see a pattern here, Calvin. It seems to me that Miss Murry might not be the best influence, and I’m rather concerned that your ongoing friendship with her—”

“Why does everyone talk about her like that?” Calvin blurted out angrily, surprising his principal. He shook his head and took a deep breath; when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Meg is…she’s wonderful. She’s so strong and smart and has such a big heart. Why can’t anyone else see that?”

Mr. Jenkins watched him, a line of curiosity creasing his brow. “You’re a very loyal kid, Calvin. But as admirable as that may be, you broke Tristan’s nose, and therefore you’re still going to have to serve two weeks of detention. You’re very lucky I’m not having you suspended. Two more strikes of violence, and I will. No exceptions. And, of course, I’ll have to call your parents.”

“No one’ll pick up, sir,” Calvin said quietly. “My mom’s on a business trip. I think she’s in Chicago.”

“I’ll just call your father, then.”

“He won’t answer.”

Jenkins tilted his head in confusion. Calvin cleared his throat; he could barely more than a whisper when he continued.

“He walked out on us, sir.”

Pity filled his principal’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Calvin.” Then he frowned. “If both of your parents are gone, then I assume you’re staying with relatives for the time being?”

“No.”

“Family friends?”

“Not…exactly.”

“You’re not living alone while your mother’s gone, are you?”

“No. I’ve, um, I’ve been staying with the Murrys.”

Mr. Jenkins’ eyebrows shot up. “Meg Murry’s family?”

“Yes.”

The dumbfounded expression on his principal’s face nearly made Calvin laugh.

“Well then. You’ll forgive me for feeling the need to confirm this with her parents.”

Calvin surprised him further by saying, “They’re both at a conference today. Dr. Alex doesn’t like to pick up random numbers; Meg takes after him in that way. But they’ve gotten better about that since…never mind. You’ll, uh, have better luck with Dr. Kate. I’ve got her cell memorized, if you need it.”

“No need. I’ve called Mrs. Murry enough times to have her number memorized as well.”

The principal dialed the number and pressed the receiver to his ear, drumming his fingers on his desk and leaning against his armrest. Three rings later, Dr. Kate picked up.

“Mrs. Murry, this is Principal Jenkins—right, pardon me, _Dr._ Murry. No, shockingly, I’m not calling about Margaret.”

The condescension with which he said Meg’s full name made Calvin grit his teeth.

“I’m calling about Calvin O’Keefe. Yes, Calvin. He’s sitting in my office with me now, and he told me that you and your husband have been acting as his temporary guardians while his mother is on a business trip. Is this true? Has he in fact been living with you?”

A few seconds ticked by before Mr. Jenkins blinked. “I see. Well, in that case, I guess it’s my duty to inform you that Calvin has gotten himself into serious trouble. He broke another boy’s nose during gym class today. No, it wasn’t an accident. He punched him. I don’t…I don’t know. No, I didn’t—I haven’t—Yes. Alright.” Jenkins coughed and handed the receiver to Calvin. “She’d like to speak to you.”

Calvin took the phone. “Dr. Kate?”

“Honey, what happened?”

Dr. Alex’s voice followed his wife’s; they must’ve had the phone on speaker. “Has Principal Jenkins asked you why you hit this kid?”

“No.”

“This is so unlike you,” Dr. Kate said. “I can’t imagine you would do something like this for some trivial reason. What did that boy do?”

As Calvin told Meg’s parents what had happened, he watched his principal’s eyes widen. Clearly, Mr. Jenkins hadn’t considered that Calvin had been acting as a protector rather than an instigator.

When he finished, Calvin barely heard Dr. Alex swear in the background. “Attaboy, son.”

“Alex!” scolded Dr. Kate. “Calvin, you know violence is never the answer. You should have gone to an adult.”

“Yes, Dr. Kate. I acted impulsively. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. Then, she said quietly, “That being said…thank you for defending our babygirl.”

“…Of course.”

Dr. Alex’s voice came over the line, low and grim. “Give the phone back to Principal Jenkins. I want to have a word with him.”

Calvin gave the phone back to Principal Jenkins, who opened his mouth to speak but quickly clammed back up. He shifted in his seat, then looked up at Calvin and covered the receiver. “Go wait outside, young man.”

Five minutes later, Principal Jenkins stepped out of his office. He didn’t look at Calvin; instead, he walked up to the secretary, Mr. Armand. The two spoke in low voices before Jenkins finally turned to Calvin.

“Since Tristan has left with his parents, did anybody else witness him harass Meg?”

“Jaime Bautista and Deandre Reid were there. And, um…Jake Feldman, Dahlia Cho, and Becca Van Laar. That’s all I know for sure.”

“Alright. Go to class now, Calvin. Your two weeks of detention starts after school.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Calvin made it back to the Murry home, it was nearing five o’clock. Fortinbras greeted him at the door with a bark and a wagging tail.

Calvin scratched his ears. “Hey, Fort. How’re you doing, buddy?”

The dog panted happily and licked his hand.

Footsteps pattered in from the kitchen, and Calvin looked up to see Meg standing in the doorway. It appeared that she had showered; her hair was in twists and she’d changed into joggers and his rayon hoodie.

They didn’t share any classes after gym class, and Calvin had gone straight to detention after his last period Spanish. Four long, worry-filled hours had passed since the last time he’d seen her.

She said nothing, but instead simply crossed the room and hugged him tight. Fortinbras whined at the sudden lack of affection being directed at him and tried to nuzzle between the two kids. 

“How long are you in detention for?”

“Two weeks. But it was worth it.”

Charles Wallace, she told him, was outside rubbing leaves for an assignment, and her parents still hadn’t arrived home from the conference yet. He set down his backpack and kicked off his shoes, and together they settled onto the couch.

Meg had always been quite affectionate with those she cared about; constantly holding her brother’s hand or shoulders, or leaning against her father, or linking arms with her mother. But the way she held Calvin now felt different—fearful, almost. Her glasses pressed against his chest and she sat so close she was practically in his lap.

Calvin skimmed his fingers lightly up and down her back. “You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You sure?”

Meg was quiet for a minute. Then she whispered, “I’ve felt unsafe in school before, but never…never in _that_ way. I’m just a little…shaken, is all.”

“I’m sorry.” Calvin sighed. “I should’ve stopped him before he touched you. I didn’t even consider he’d go that far.”

“This isn’t on you, Cal. I only wish I’d punched him myself. I still might, even if it does get me suspended.”

“Meg, listen, I…I told Jenkins what happened. And your parents.”

Her body grew tense as she sat up to look at him. “What?”

“Jenkins called your parents once he found out I’ve been staying here.”

“You told him about that, too?”

“He was gonna call my dad, Meg. And then he started asking about where I was staying when my mom was gone and I…told him the truth. So he called your parents to confirm, and they wanted to talk to me because they knew I’d never hit someone without a good reason, and I can’t lie to your parents about something like this, Meg, I just can’t.”

“I’m not mad at you, Cal, but it’s—it’s mortifying! Thinking about how Jenkins knows, and—oh gosh, my _dad_ knows.” She glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the opposite wall. “He’ll be home in an hour. He’ll be home in an hour, and he knows what happened.” Burying her face in her hands, she groaned. “You know my dad. He’s gonna be so upset, and he’s probably gonna keep talking about it, and I just wanna forget. I wanna forget how it felt”—her fingers flitted to the spot where Tristan had touched her—“and I can’t if Dad won’t let it go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I already told you, this is on Tristan, not you. Actually…” Meg’s gaze fell to study the carpet. “This isn’t the first time Tristan’s harassed me.”

When Calvin’s eyes grew wide, she spluttered. “N-Not in _that_ way!”

“In what way, then?”

“Notes in my locker, pulling my hair, shoving into me in the halls, just normal stuff like that.”

“‘Just normal stuff’?” Calvin frowned. “Meg, none of that should be normal. Veronica and her clique I know about—I mean, they’re not exactly subtle—but why haven’t you told me about Tristan? Have you tried to tell Principal Jenkins?”

Meg swallowed hard and said nothing for several slow heartbeats. “Whenever a big deal is made about someone being mean to me, I’m always the one Jenkins punishes. Never Veronica, or Elle, or Tristan. No one ever backs me up. It’s like everyone has decided that I deserve it, even Jenkins and the other teachers. It makes me feel so…so helpless, and I hate it. I hate feeling that way. But I also hate making people worry about me, especially when they have more important things to worry about.”

Calvin stared at her. Then he surprised her by hooking his arm under her knees and pulling her onto his lap. She squeaked, startled, and he held her steady and cupped her cheek. The starfish charm on his bracelet grazed her chin.

“Listen to me,” he began quietly. “First off, you don’t deserve this. Any of it. Okay? And second, you are not unimportant. What you’ve been going through is not unimportant. I know what it’s like to feel that way. I felt like such a burden when you and your family started helping me, and sometimes I still do. But if I hadn’t let myself be vulnerable, I wouldn’t have become a part of your family. It’s okay to seek help when you’re feeling helpless, Meg. And we can’t help if you hide stuff like this from everyone.”

“But that’s just it, Calvin!” Meg’s lip trembled; she looked away and roughly shoved her glasses farther up on her nose. “It doesn’t matter if I hide it or not. You _can’t_ help. If Jenkins won’t do anything, what can anyone else do? What use is it making you worry over something you can’t do anything about?”

Calvin mirrored her frown and traced his thumb along the curve of her mouth. “I can listen. I _want_ to listen. It’s not good to keep all that hurt and anger bottled up, Meg. You know you can confide in me. You know you can trust me. And please, don’t worry about my worrying. To quote a certain little genius we know, ‘Worrying means that I care.’ Remember?”

Meg’s face was still scrunched up and gloomy, but she closed her eyes and nuzzled closer to him all the same. She didn’t speak as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. It was clear to Calvin that she didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

A dimple formed along her clenched jaw and he kissed it softly. “Hey,” he mumbled, “do you wanna take a quick nap before your parents come home?”

She nodded. He took off her glasses, adjusted a couple pillows against the armrest, and laid down, pulling her down with him. She rested her head on his chest like a pillow and sighed.

Ten minutes later, right as Calvin started drifting off to sleep, Meg whispered, “Thank you, Cal.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Calvin awoke to a hand on his shoulder. He blinked, vision fuzzy with sleep, and saw Dr. Alex’s face hovering above his.

“Hey, kiddo. We’re back.”

Tilting his head, Calvin looked around the living room and saw Charles Wallace sitting at the coffee table, his sketchbook in front of him and the TV on. Dr. Kate stood beside her husband. Worry filled her eyes, but when she saw Calvin watching her she gave him a weak smile.

“How is she?”

Calvin’s eyes flitted to Meg. She was still asleep, laying next to and partially on top of him. He could feel her chest rising and falling with each steady breath. Someone—probably Charles Wallace—had draped a blanket over them.

“She’s…” Calvin sighed and gently rubbed Meg’s back. She stirred, but didn’t wake. “She’s not great. She just wants to forget that anything happened.”

Dr. Kate bit her lip. “I think I’d better talk with her.”

Once awake, Meg didn’t say a word. She sat up and avoided eye contact with her parents, even when her mother knelt in front of her and kissed her forehead. Her hand found Calvin’s and squeezed tightly. He could feel her anxiety through the quickness of her pulse.

Reluctantly Meg left the living room with her mother and climbed the stairs to the attic. Calvin watched her leave, then followed Dr. Alex into the kitchen to help with dinner.

For fifteen minutes, the silence was filled only by the hum of the radio. Ingredients for curry cluttered the island. Calvin chopped ginger root while Dr. Alex sautéed chicken. The Drs. Murry had taught him how to cook for himself in case his mother didn’t provide for him, and he enjoyed the gratification that came from making something for others to enjoy.

Finally, Dr. Alex cleared his throat. “Calvin…thank you for telling us what happened. I don’t think Meg would have told us on her own.”

“She wasn’t going to,” Calvin affirmed, eyes never leaving the ginger beneath his knife. “She was shocked when I told her that I told Mr. Jenkins.”

“That Mr. Jenkins…” muttered Dr. Alex. “Even if he is a hard man to put faith in, I wish Meg would tell him when the other kids bully her. It’s his job to do something about it.”

“She doesn’t trust him at all. And…I can’t say I blame her.” Sighing, Calvin set down the knife and rested his head in his hands, his elbows on the counter. “When I told Jenkins about what my dad…did to me, the situation only got worse. When it came down to my word against my dad’s, Jenkins believed my dad. So I get it. I get her reluctance, and her fear. She’s so used to being the one Jenkins punishes that she can’t even imagine him actually helping her.”

Dr. Alex turned down the heat on the stove a few notches and stood next to Calvin, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, there’s not much else she can do to resolve this other than telling your principal or the other teachers. Mr. Jenkins has made it clear that a physical response”— the doctor nodded at Calvin’s bruised hand—“will result in punishment, no matter how justified. A verbal retort against a group will amount to nothing, and walking away will only tell them that she’s a soft target and they can get away with it. So all that’s left is telling Mr. Jenkins.”

“And if Jenkins continues to do nothing?” Calvin asked quietly. “What then?”

“Well, if that happens, we’ll schedule an appointment with the guidance counselor and pray that she’ll convince Mr. Jenkins to intervene.”

“Meg’ll hate that. You know how guarded she can be. She didn’t even tell me that Tristan has been leaving notes in her locker and pulling her hair until like, an hour ago. I don’t know if she’ll open up to a counselor.”

Dr. Alex sighed and patted Calvin’s back, then grabbed the tongs and tended to the chicken. “I don’t know if she will either, but that can’t stop us from trying. And if nothing comes from that, Kate and I’ll take it up with the school board. Hopefully we can get this addressed before the end of the year.”

Movement past Dr. Alex caught Calvin’s eye. Meg and her mother walked into the kitchen. He moved around the island to get a better view of his girlfriend. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and he gave her a look of concern. But Meg shook her head and managed a reassuring smile.

Even Dr. Kate appeared as though she had been crying. Her husband walked up to her and kissed her temple before pulling both her and their daughter into his arms.

“I have half a mind to go in tomorrow and talk with that Mr. Jenkins,” Dr. Alex said. “Just think, if we hadn’t asked to—”

“Alex.” Dr. Kate shook her head sternly and gestured to Meg with her chin. Their daughter had paled and was staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry, Megatron.”

She shrugged and scratched her shoulder, not meeting his eyes. “I, um…I think I’m gonna go see what Charles Wallace is doing.”

Her gaze darted to Calvin for a brief second before she shuffled out of the room. Dr. Alex started to follow, but his wife placed her hand on his chest.

“Let’s give her some space. She hasn’t had anything like this happen to her before. She’ll be alright; she just needs some room to breathe.”

Dr. Alex flexed his fingers in frustration. “I want to help, Katie,” he said. “I want to do _something_. I could call the Novaks.”

“Alex.” Dr. Kate shook her head in exasperation.

“Why not? We should talk to the parents of the boy who did this, shouldn’t we?”

“We should, but face-to-face, not over the phone. Let’s talk about this after dinner, okay? You’re about to burn the chicken.” 

Calvin considered leaving to find Meg, but he hesitated. Dr. Kate’s words applied to him as well. Meg needed breathing room, and he needed to respect that. So instead, he picked the knife up and finished chopping the ginger.

 

* * *

 

A full moon shone down upon Calvin as he sat atop Charles Wallace’s dome climber. The cold had seeped into the metal bars of the jungle gym and through his jeans to chill his skin, but he hardly noticed. Dinner had been a quiet affair, an abnormality for the Murry family, and the extended silence had allowed unwanted thoughts to roam freely through his mind.

He hadn’t told Meg about… _that_ …yet. Before today, he had tried to pretend that it wasn’t that big a deal. That it didn’t affect him as much as it did. And Calvin had succeeded, for the most part; over the years, he’d become quite exceptional at suppressing unsavory memories. Old feelings, however, had reemerged, elicited by what had happened to Meg, and he was finding it harder than usual to ignore them.

But, he thought dismissively, he was probably making a mountain out of a molehill. It had happened years ago, and no one else involved seemed to have considered it anything more than unabashed flattery. It wasn’t as if he had been in danger. It was just a simple misunderstanding. An unpleasant misunderstanding, but not a malicious one.

The dome shook beneath Calvin, and he looked over to see Meg climbing up beside him. He hadn’t heard the back door open. In her hands she held her grey NASA hoodie, and once situated she thrust it at him.

“What are you doing out here?” Meg gave a dramatic shiver. “You’re gonna freeze to death.”

“It’s not that cold.” Even as he spoke, Calvin tugged the hoodie over his head. Its warmth snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality, and he realized that his hands had gone numb. He shoved them into the hoodie’s pouch and tried not to give Meg the satisfaction of a shudder. Instead of answering her question, he deflected it with his own. “How’d your talk with your mom go?”

Meg adjusted her glasses on her nose. “As well as a talk like that could go, I guess. She told me about some stuff she went through when she was my age. It made me feel…validated, if that makes sense. Like it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but it _felt_ like it. I felt…wrong.” She sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Calvin looked away.

“Wait…” Meg’s voice tightened. “Cal?”

He didn’t reply.

“Calvin, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not—it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I can guess. Look, it’s nothing, just forget it.”

“Oh, don’t you dare. Don’t you _dare_ shut me out. After that huge speech you gave earlier? About how we can’t bottle up stuff like this and hide it from each other? That goes both ways, Calvin.” She cupped his cheek and turned his head to look at her. Moonlight glinted off her glasses and cast an ethereal glow across her skin. Searching his eyes, she whispered, “Do you trust me?”

Calvin leaned into her palm. “I trust you, Meg. Of course I do.”

“Then talk to me. Please, Calvin. I wanna listen.”

Pursing his lips, Calvin shifted so that he could face her fully. “Okay. Okay, um…” He took a deep breath. “So, in, uh, in sixth grade, I was on the playground with some of my buddies during recess, right? And, uh, y’know Monica Lang?”

Meg nodded. “She was our class treasurer this year, right?”

“Yeah. Well, she came up to me, just to talk, or so I thought, and her friends were giggling and whispering behind her. I didn’t understand what was going on, until, um…” Calvin’s voice caught in his throat and he couldn’t bear to look at Meg. “Monica grabbed my face and…and kissed me.”

He felt Meg stiffen, and he kept his gaze down. But this confession had broken the dam, and now words kept flooding out of his mouth.

“Her hands were pinching my cheeks and she basically just smashed our faces together. Like, our teeth collided and everything, and it was just so painful and embarrassing and _awful._ Then she pulled away and she was smiling, and she and her friends ran away laughing and cheering, as if what she did was brave, or something for her to be…to be _proud_ of.”

Calvin’s hands had started shaking from pent-up anger. That _feeling_ was back, the memory of Monica’s hot mouth against his and the sickening crash of teeth striking teeth. It had snuck up on him right before he’d first kissed Meg, and he had been terrified that kissing her would feel just as nauseating. But his first kiss with her had been shy yet soft and sweet, clumsy yet eager. Nothing like the suffocating, panic-inducing kiss Monica had forced on him.

He finally risked a peek at Meg and saw that her eyes held a blaze of pity and rage. She inched closer and placed her hand on his knee, as if reassuring him that her anger wasn’t directed toward him. Calvin’s throat started to close up; he had to swallow several times before he could continue.

“My friends even started slapping me on the back and calling me a ‘lucky guy’, because she’s a pretty girl, and what guy wouldn’t be delighted to be kissed by Monica Lang, right? Except I didn’t feel delighted. I felt absolutely sick, and confused and—and betrayed. I had barely even talked to Monica before that, and she didn’t even tell me that she liked me or anything. She just kissed me and ran away, and then we never talked again.

“But sometimes still, in the halls, I’ll accidentally meet her eyes and she’ll wink at me, like it’s an inside joke instead of something I’ve spent years trying to forget. Like, ‘Hey, remember that fun time when I stole your first kiss?’ Because it was. It was my first kiss, and she took that from me. And I still feel so…so…”

“Violated,” Meg finished quietly.

Calvin let out a shuddering huff of air. “Yeah.”

“And invalidated.”

“Yeah. I mean—no one acted like it was wrong of her to do that to me. And it made me start doubting myself, y’know? Like, what if I’m freaking out over nothing? What if I’m being too sensitive or too dramatic? That’s what my dad would’ve told me, if I had ever told him. As if I ever would. But it…it still makes me so _mad_ , Meg. I always thought that your first kiss is supposed to be something special. If Monica hadn’t…done that… _you_ would’ve been my first kiss. And that would’ve been so special to me. To be able to truthfully say that my first kiss was with my first love.”

Meg’s breath hitched a tad at that last part, but her voice was solemn when she spoke. “You should feel angry. She shouldn’t have done that to you. You’re not being overdramatic, not at all. What you’re feeling is absolutely, completely valid, okay? I…I feel something similar about Tristan.” Her hand once again drifted up to touch her shoulder, where her bra strap was hidden underneath his rayon hoodie. “He… _touched_ me, in a way that not even you have touched me. In a way that I don’t feel ready to be touched, not by anyone. He acted like it was all just a joke, like there wasn’t anything wrong with what he was doing. Like it was funny. When he saw I was uncomfortable, he _laughed_. I felt so panicked, I could hardly breath. His touch felt like—like fire ants crawling across my skin. And I can still feel him.”

After a heartbeat’s hesitation, Calvin opened his arms in both a question and an offering. Meg didn’t waste any time folding herself into his embrace. Her breath tickled his neck as she sighed.

“You feel nothing like Tristan, Cal. You feel _safe._ ”

A somber pride filled his chest at her words. “You feel safe too, my Meg. Safe like home.”

Meg drew away to look at him, and for a few quiet seconds they just gazed at each other; the calm before the storm.

Then Calvin kissed her. Her mouth was open and inviting, and he ached to fill his senses with the taste and smell and feeling of _Meg_ rather than _Monica_. She responded with a similar desperation, her hands fisting in his hoodie and tugging him as close to her as she could manage. His own restless hands couldn’t decide whether to hold her waist or her shoulders, and eventually they reached up to cup her face. 

When his fingers brushed her skin, Meg gasped and flinched back. “Stars, Cal, your hands are freezing.”

Calvin had to take a moment to catch his breath. His hands fell away from her face. “Sorry.”

She caught his wrists and brought them up to her lips, gently blowing hot air across his fingertips and knuckles before pressing soft kisses to his open palms. Shivers ran across Calvin’s skin. He watched Meg with hooded eyes as she rubbed her hands over his to warm them.

After a minute, she lifted her eyes to meet his and whispered, “Better?” 

“Much,” Calvin murmured, low and rasping. Sliding his hands under the loose hood of her sweatshirt, he cradled her neck through the fabric and pulled her back close. His lips met hers, and Meg’s hand found its way into his hair. Now, their kisses were slower, less desperate, and Calvin felt his anxiety melt away into a buzzing calm.

A door squeaked and closed by the house; the lab light flickered on, illuminating that corner of the backyard. Despite the fact that they were still enshrouded in relative darkness, Calvin and Meg separated. 

“I guess we should get back inside.” Meg licked her lips and straightened her glasses.

Calvin nodded in agreement, too dazed to form words. Before he climbed down, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

Both kids groaned as they clambered off the jungle gym, their legs sore from pressing against the hard metal bars. They crossed the dewing grass to the house, where the amber lights of the kitchen betrayed their flushed faces and sheepish smiles. Through the windows they could see Dr. Alex working in the lab, punching numbers into the computer. Calvin started to head toward the living room.

“Wait.” Meg caught his sleeve. “Maybe, um…I think you should talk to my dad. About the…the Monica thing. Talking to my mom helped me, and, uh, maybe talking to Dad’ll help you.”

Calvin shifted his weight from foot to foot and swallowed. “Do you think that he’ll—he’ll understand? That he’ll have gone through something similar, like your mom with you?”

“I think,” Meg started slowly, reaching up to fiddle with the drawstring of his hoodie, “that he loves you and will make an effort to understand, even if he can’t relate. I think the last thing he’ll do is dismiss your feelings, or tell you that you’re being too sensitive. Okay?”

She gave him a reassuring nod, and Calvin returned it. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

Standing on her tiptoes, Meg pecked his lips one last time. “I’m gonna go put Charles Wallace to bed. Let me know how it goes, okay?”

“I will.”

“Goodnight, my Cal.”

“‘Night, my Meg.”

Calvin watched her leave, and then walked through the back door and into the lab.


	3. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the surprise POV :)

* * *

  **THURSDAY.**

“Now, when the sentence has an objective complement, you add a diagonal line after the direct object and write in the word.” Mrs. Estrella uncapped a red dry-erase marker and demonstrated the concept on the whiteboard. “Like so. Who would like to give this next sentence a shot?”

Veronica Kiley leaned forward in her chair, her gaze drifting idly around the room. No one raised their hands. She peered back at the board to study the sentence:

_Raquel painted her bedroom walls blue._

It was relatively easy enough, in Veronica’s opinion: _Raquel_ was the subject, _painted_ the verb; _walls_ was the direct object, _blue_ was the objective complement, while _her_ and _bedroom_ were adjectives. She considered raising her hand, but decided against it. Her hair was dull, she hadn’t put on mascara that morning, and she was wearing her fraying laundry-day jeans and a plain grey sweater. Veronica preferred to wait until she was her most presentable self to do anything in front of the class. As her mom, whose own mother hailed from Lebanon, liked to say, “Dressing up a stick turns it into a doll”. Today, Veronica was just a stick.

Tapping the marker against her chin, Mrs. Estrella scrutinized the class. “Hm. Meg Murry, how about you? Goodness knows you need the participation marks.”

A few kids failed to hide amused smirks. Veronica looked three rows over at Meg, who was slouching in her chair and looked as if she had been on the verge of falling asleep. At their grammar teacher’s remark, her face flushed red. Pity twinged at Veronica. Sure, Meg didn’t participate, but that wasn’t something Mrs. Estrella should call her out on in front of the entire class.

Meg stood without speaking and took the marker from their teacher’s outstretched hand. She stared at the whiteboard, clearly at a loss on what to do. Hesitantly she wrote in the correct subject and verb, but faltered and made _bedroom_ the direct object and _walls_ the objective complement. She made _blue_ an adjective and completely forgot to include the word _her_ anywhere in the diagram.

Mrs. Estrella sighed. “Incorrect. I wish you’d pay more attention, Meg. This sentence is nearly identical to the example that I _just_ went over.”

That wasn’t exactly true; the last sentence had included a noun as the objective complement, not an adjective, so it didn’t surprise Veronica that it had confused Meg. Grammar had never been her forte. Mrs. Estrella knew this, and yet she still thought it necessary to scold her.

Meg sulked. She roughly placed the market on the whiteboard’s tray and marched back to her seat without being dismissed. Flopping back in her chair, she mumbled, “I don’t see why we have to learn this.” 

Her complaint was just loud enough for Mrs. Estrella to hear. “What was that?”

“I said,” replied Meg brazenly, “that I don’t understand why we have to learn this. How will diagramming help us later in life? My mom doesn’t even remember how to do it, and she has two doctorates.”

“Are either of them in English?”

“No.”

“Then pardon me for not finding that a good argument against learning a valuable skill.”

Meg rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She seemed to be in a sourer mood than normal. “Is it valuable? Or is it just a waste of our time?”

“Margaret, if you’re going to have a bad attitude, you might as well leave.”

There was a loud scraping noise as Meg stood from her seat. Several students sniggered. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and strode to the front of the room. At the door, she hesitated and glanced back. Following her gaze, Veronica saw that she was looking at Calvin. Her boyfriend had tensed like he might leap out of his chair, and he was watching her with a concerned frown. Meg shook her head, giving him a fleeting, unconvincing smile before walking out of class.

“Well.” Mrs. Estrella looked quite irritated. “Now that that’s out of the way, Miguel, would you please come up and correct the diagram?”

Calvin was the first one out the door when the bell rang. By the time Veronica entered the hallway, he was already standing with Meg next to the trophy case. They appeared to be arguing quietly. Veronica hovered by the water fountain and pretended to get a drink, all the while straining to hear their conversation.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’m always in trouble. I told you yesterday, Cal, you can’t do anything about that.”

“But _you_ can. You knew Mrs. Estrella would get upset if you talked back to her.”

“My question was perfectly reasonable. It’s not my fault she kicked me out over it.”

Veronica nearly scoffed aloud. Did Meg have even a sliver of self-awareness?

“She didn’t kick you out, Meg. You walked out. You could’ve stayed, you could’ve apologized, but instead you chose to leave.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“Are you really?”

A beat of silence. Then, a sigh.

“No.”

Veronica chanced a peek. As she watched, Calvin took Meg’s hand and brushed a curl away from her glasses. He whispered something that Veronica couldn’t catch. Whatever he said appeared to calm Meg a tad, and she rubbed her face with her free hand.

“I’m just so tired.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t wanna be here. I wanna go home.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Nutmeg.”

_Nutmeg_? Veronica scrunched up her nose. How schmaltzy. She could hardly believe Meg let him call her that.

The couple dropped their voices to whispers. After waiting another moment, Veronica decided not to waste the rest of her ten-minute break trying to eavesdrop.

 

* * *

 

Lunchtime rolled around quickly. The cafeteria was abuzz with conversations and laughter, and Veronica maneuvered through the sea of tables until she reached her and her friends’ usual spot.

Adriana was already there, along with Miguel Garcia-Rivera, a baseball player with brown hair and big puppy-dog eyes. Though Veronica didn’t share much in common with Miguel, he and Adriana were very close, and so she considered him one of her best friends.

The two were talking in Spanish when Veronica sat down. Adriana smiled at her and Miguel nodded in greeting, and then they continued their conversation. Veronica didn’t mind; she knew that if what they were discussing was something she’d be interested in, Adriana would switch to English and include her. She was thoughtful like that. Based on Veronica’s limited understanding of Spanish, she deduced that they were talking about a movie she hadn’t yet seen.

Veronica opened her lunch bag. Her mother had packed her a homemade salad and a bottle of water. She glanced longingly at Adriana’s bag of Fritos and Miguel’s Gatorade before opening the Tupperware and taking a bite. Her mother had added julienned radishes. She hated radishes.

Elle and Lorna arrived, along with Dave Peyton—a blond, blue-eyed football player—and Dahlia Cho—a Korean cheerleader with a dyed-auburn bob. Immediately Elle jumped into Adriana and Miguel’s conversation, saying something that sounded like a joke in Spanish, but Adriana replied in English.

“We’re talking about the remake, not the original.”

Elle shrugged and said something else in Spanish. If Veronica understood her correctly, she had just called the remake a piece of crap.

“I like the remake,” Miguel said, his voice defensive. “I thought the special effects were really good.”

“Yikes.” Elle tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Remind me to never watch any movie you recommend, Coco.”

Miguel fidgeted uncomfortably and Adriana scowled at Elle. Everyone knew how much he hated that nickname, and how many times he’d asked her not to call him that. But Elle had a nasty habit of apologizing one moment and then forgetting—or pretending to forget—the next. She’d nicknamed Adriana “Aids” back in fifth grade, and though Adriana had, for obvious reasons, protested, Elle wouldn’t relent.

Even Veronica wasn’t immune from her friend’s poor nickname choices. Elle loved to call her “Vee”, which wouldn’t have bothered Veronica except for the fact that Elle referred to a certain part of the body the same way. It was hard not to feel uncomfortable with that particular association, even if it was an unintentional one. And Lorna, the only one in their group who seemed fully devoted to Elle, hadn’t minded her calling her “Lorn”—until she’d looked up the definition.

Sometimes, Veronica found herself doubting whether or not the nicknames were given out of affection. Elle was the first one in their group to start mocking Meg by calling her any diminutive of Margaret other than simply “Meg”, a prank that Veronica had, until recently, engaged in and found hilarious. But if Elle teased Meg like that because she hated her, why would she tease her own friends the same way?

Elle looked up sharply and Veronica jumped, thinking at first that somehow she’d overheard her thoughts. But her friend was looking over her shoulder with narrow eyes.

“Ugh, don’t look now.”

Everyone’s heads swiveled to look. Several tables away, Calvin and Meg were walking over to the table where Deandre Reid and Jaime Bautista were sitting. Meg looked completely out of her element, and once seated she slid closer to Calvin. He touched her elbow and said something to her.

Veronica let her gaze linger on Jaime for a moment before turning away. She’d never told anyone but Adriana this, but she saw him outside of school almost every Saturday; they’d both been attending the same community theater club for a little over a year now. Some days, she wished she could sit with him during lunch. His company was far better than Elle’s, and they got along surprisingly well at the theater. Jaime was a good guy. But they weren’t friends at school. Not really.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Meg sit in the cafeteria before,” Adriana said, twirling one of her dark corkscrew curls around her finger.

Across the table, Elle seethed. “She’s always had a big head, and now look at her. Acting like she’s the queen of the school just because she’s sitting with the king. It pisses me off.”

Lorna shrugged. “Honestly? I think it’s kinda funny. He’s probably just taken her on as a pet project. Date the weird loner girl until she’s no longer weird or lonely. Fix up the fixer-upper.”

“Well, he’s got his work cut out for him,” Adriana said. “I don’t see how even the great Calvin O’Keefe could flip such a flop.”

Dave, who was sitting next to Miguel, spoke up. “Do you guys think they’ve ever, y’know…”

He made a lewd gesture with his hands. Everybody groaned.

“That’s disgusting, Dave.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

Adriana and Miguel threw Fritos at him while he laughed and tried to catch them in his mouth.

Abruptly Elle stood, slamming her hands down onto the table. A hush fell over the group. She glared at them all for a few moments before whirling around with a gruff _hmph!_ and stomping off.

“ _Híjole_ , what’s wrong with her?” asked Miguel.

Adriana studied a Frito, seemingly unfazed by her friend’s outburst. “Eh, she’s got a thing for Calvin.”

“Well yeah, doesn’t almost every girl in our school?”

“Lemme rephrase that.” Adriana popped the Frito into her mouth. She chewed for a few seconds before continuing. “Elle’s been head over heels for Calvin ever since they were assigned as dance partners in our third-grade musical.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “She’s convinced she has dibs on him, or whatever. Any girl that so much as shows more than a passing interest in him becomes target practice. It’s honestly pretty pathetic. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added quickly, fear flickering across her face. Even the confident, outspoken cheerleader was afraid of Elle.

“So that’s why she hates Meg so much,” Dave said.

“Oh, she’s hated her for years, for other reasons. Meg’s stuck-up—”

“—and aggressive,” added Adriana.

“Don’t forget annoying as hell,” Miguel agreed.

Dahlia nodded. “And nowhere near as smart as she likes to think. But now that Meg and Calvin are dating, Elle’s absolutely livid.”

Lorna swept her box braids over her shoulder. “It’s not like she has anything to worry about. Like I said, there’s no way they’ll last longer than another week or two.”

“Actually…” Dahlia began slowly, “I was there when Calvin punched Tristan yesterday, and Calvin said that he and Meg have been dating since August.”

A chorus of disbelieving scoffs resounded around the table.

“Yeah right.”

“You probably heard wrong.”

“There’s no way.”

Veronica shifted restlessly. She didn’t know whether or not to speak up. Keeping silent felt wrong, but if she told her friends that yes, Calvin and Meg had been a couple this entire time, they’d get upset at her for not telling them sooner.

Adriana crumpled up her empty Frito bag. “What I can’t believe is that Calvin actually punched Tristan. He’s always been so chill! I think Meg’s corrupted him.”

“That’s a dirty way to put it,” Dave snickered. Miguel elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ugh,” Dahlia rubbed her eyes, “I hate to say it, but Tristan deserved it. Again, I was there, and I may not like Meg, but what he did crossed a line.”

Doubt pursed Lorna’s lips. “Wait, are the rumors true? Did he actually stick his hand down her shirt?” She, Veronica, Adriana, Elle, and the boys had been in the middle of Group A and Group B’s soccer match when the confrontation went down. All they had seen was the aftermath—Tristan’s bleeding nose, Coach Stewart yelling at Calvin, and Meg clutching Jaime’s hoodie around her shoulders.

“He did, and he tweaked her bra. I even heard her shirt rip.”

All the girls around the table grew solemn. Even Dave knew not to crack a joke. They didn’t like Meg, but none of them were so cruel as to support Tristan doing such a thing to her.

None except Elle. But she wasn’t here.

“So the cutest guy in school is taken, and the second cutest is a pervert,” sighed Lorna. “Wonderful. Is there even a third cutest out there? Or are we gonna have to start a poll?”

Dave began raising his hand. Miguel yanked it back down.

Throughout this entire exchange, Veronica kept silent.

Minutes later, Adriana nudged her. “Hey, y’good? You’ve been really quiet today.”

“Just tired,” Veronica said. “I stayed up too late last night binging _Top Model_.”

She hated lying to Adriana. They’d been best friends for almost four years, and out of the rest of the group, Adriana was her closest, most trusted friend. But Veronica was afraid to tell her the truth: that guilt was eating her alive.

Elle never came back to their table. If anyone missed her, they didn’t show it.

 

* * *

 

“I hope we’re done with soccer drills,” complained Lorna, shrugging off her cardigan and tossing it into her locker. “I’m sick of running around in the wet grass.”

Beside her, Adriana spoke through a yawn. “I’d rather play soccer than dodgeball.”

The two girls went back and forth on what they wanted to do in gym that day while Veronica switched into her athletic uniform. She had just slipped on her sneakers when Elle, who was standing one locker over, snapped her fingers, almost like she was trying to get a waiter’s attention.

“Hey. Look who finally decided to show up.”

Meg had walked into the locker room a good five minutes late. Her backpack hung off one shoulder; she tossed it at a bench resting against the wall and started unlocking her locker.

A smirk spread across Elle’s face. “Let’s go have a chat with the lovebird, shall we?”

Veronica’s skin itched with unease. She watched as Adriana and Lorna followed Elle to where Meg was getting changed. Her feet felt glued to the floor. No one noticed that she stayed behind.

“Hey, Marge,” Elle said with mock sweetness.

Meg grimaced but ignored her.

“We’ve all been talking about you,” continued Elle, “and we’re just dying to know: What it’s like dating someone who’s so unbelievably out of your league? I mean, Calvin’s a solid ten, but you…a measly four, wouldn’t you say?”

Adriana gave Meg a once-over. “Eh, maybe a five on a good day.”

A dimple appeared on Meg’s jaw as if she was clenching her teeth. Yet she persisted in snubbing the girls.

Until Lorna spoke up.

“I bet Calvin’s a wonderful kisser.”

Veronica saw Meg grow rigid, then cast a sharp glance across the room, away from the clique and toward a trio of girls minding their own business in the corner: Emily Henderson, Monica Lang, and Isabel Costello. Meg’s glare, though fleeting, could’ve burned a hole straight through the lockers. The moment passed so quickly that Veronica wasn’t sure whether or not she’d imagined it.

“C’mon, Maggie.” Lorna leaned against the lockers next to Meg, who’d lifted her foot onto the bench and started untying her converse. “There’s nothing wrong with a little kiss-and-tell. How about it? Do you guys make out? French kiss a bit? Is Calvin as good at tonsil hockey as he is at basketball?”

The shoelaces slipped from Meg’s fingers and she turned a bright red.

Adriana raised a single eyebrow. “That’s a yes.”

A few nearby girls gaped at Meg; the thought of Calvin O’Keefe making out with Meg Murry of all people was nearly unfathomable. Elle’s nails dug into the side of her arm and she scowled.

As the reject continued to change, Lorna circled her. “How far have you gone? Second base? Third?”

Meg stayed silent, but her blush had faded and she looked more irritated than embarrassed.

“Oh, no farther than first, huh? Gee, what a _shock_ ,” said Elle. Despite the sarcastic pity in her voice, she looked thoroughly relieved. It wasn’t often that she was so pleased to be wrong. She’d jumped to wild conclusions the other day and impulsively taped the word _Slut_ to Meg’s locker, an action that even Lorna had found incredibly melodramatic.

“Farther than you’d’ve gotten,” Meg mumbled.

Somewhere behind them, a girl snorted. Now it was Elle’s turn to flush. Sinister anger flashed across her face and she drew herself up as taut as a bowstring.

Oh, no. Veronica had seen that look from Elle before. Things were about to escalate.

After a moment of waffling, she covertly slid her phone out of her backpack and opened the camera. Her hands shook as she pressed _Record_.

“I bet you’ve got a pic of Calvin in your locket, huh? To keep him close to your heart?” Elle cooed. She eyed the golden glint of Meg’s necklace.

Meg ignored her and shoved her jacket and shirt into her gym locker.

Elle glowered at her lack of response. Then her hand lashed out toward Meg; before the bespectacled girl could react, Elle ripped the locket off her neck, breaking the chain. A couple girls gasped.

Meg’s eyes grew wide and she tried to snatch the locket back. Elle danced away with a laugh.

“Guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”

“Get your grimy paws off my locket!” Meg reached for Elle’s wrist, but Lorna came up behind her, grabbed a fistful of her curls, and yanked her back. Meg yelped in pain and stumbled. Lorna didn’t let go, holding her hair like a leash.

Elle thanked her friend with a wicked grin. But her smile faltered a smidge when she opened the locket. “Hm. Just dear ol’ delusional dad. How boring.”

“Give it back you overweening, tawdry piece of—!” Meg’s boiling words turned into a frozen gasp as Elle started to bend the two sides of the locket past their limit. Any farther, and it’d surely snap in two.

The sick delight that lit up Elle’s face at Meg’s panic appalled Veronica. “Say ‘please’, Peggy.”

Defeat weighed heavily in the Murry girl’s eyes and her shoulders sagged. Through gritted teeth, she bitterly muttered, “Please.”

Elle dangled the necklace out in front of her. Meg went to take it, but before she could touch it Elle let it slip through her fingers. The open locket hit the tile floor with a metallic clink that seemed to echo in the silence of the locker room. All the girls held their breath. 

Elle lifted her foot and stomped on the locket. Veronica heard a tinny crunch and Meg flinched back like she’d been slapped. Elle repeated the action, this time grinding it into the tile with the heel of her sneakers.

All eyes were on Meg. Her hands balled into tight, trembling fists, and Lorna dropped her hair and took a few wary steps back. Strangely, Elle didn’t look the slightest bit afraid, and she shifted her stance as though readying herself to receive a punch.

But a punch never came. A few seconds ticked by before Elle leaned forward and whispered something in Meg’s ear, then pushed past her with a triumphant smirk.

Lorna and Adriana followed her out the door, and slowly the locker room emptied. Some girls cast sympathetic glances at Meg, but most avoided looking at her and hurried to leave.

And then there were two.

Veronica had managed to record the entire thing.

Meg stood deathly still, staring at her locket. All of a sudden she let out a furious scream and punched her locker so hard that Veronica slapped her hand over her mouth. The scream quickly dissolved into a sob and Meg sunk to her knees. She gathered the broken pieces of her locket into her hands, held them to her chest, and cried.

Guilt twisted Veronica’s stomach into knots. She hadn’t seen Meg cry since her father first disappeared over four years ago. Did Meg always cry after a run-in with Veronica and her friends? They had never stuck around long enough to find out, and Veronica had never considered it. Normally when confronted by the clique, Meg would either stick her nose in the air like a snob and ignore them or retaliate with a string of insults that often fell flat. Now, Veronica wondered how often the curly haired girl’s eyes had welled with tears as soon as she was alone.

The fact that she had once found teasing Meg satisfying—even, in some cases, _fun_ —put a bitter taste in her mouth.

Veronica crossed the room and knelt beside Meg. She tried to wrap her arms around her, but the crying girl shied away.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you _dare_ touch me!”

“Okay, okay.” Veronica held her hands up. “I won’t. Just…watch this.”

She played the video for Meg and watched her teary eyes widen. When the video ended, Meg’s flushed face twisted into a scowl.

“What sick game are you playing at? What, are you gonna post this on Instagram or Snapchat or whatever for all your friends to watch and laugh at?”

“I doubt Principal Jenkins will be laughing when I play this for him.”

“…What?”

Veronica stood. “You wanna get back at Elle? Come to the office with me and let’s show this to Principal Jenkins.”

She held out her hand for Meg to take, but the other girl ignored it and used the nearby bench to climb to her feet.

“Get away from me.”

“But—”

“Get away!”

Meg left the locker room with Veronica on her heels.

“Are you kidding me? I stick my neck out for you and you tell me to piss off?” Veronica’s voice ached with hurt more than anger. She was trying to follow Calvin’s advice to act, to show Meg that she was serious about meriting her forgiveness, but how could she earn it if Meg refused to give her a chance?

Suddenly Meg stopped in her tracks, and Veronica nearly ran into her. Someone was hurrying down the hall toward them.

Meg wavered. When she spoke, it was more a breath of relief than a whisper. “Cal.”

Calvin jogged up to the girls, breathless and red-cheeked. “Meg! Is everything okay? I didn’t see you on the field, and then I thought I felt—Oh, no.” As soon as he saw her tear-streaked face, he grasped her shoulders. “What happened now?”

His girlfriend held up her folded hands, and Calvin gently unfurled her fingers to reveal the broken necklace.

“Oh, Meg _._ ”

He hugged her and held her tight. It was then that he noticed Veronica. His eyes narrowed.

“It wasn’t me,” she blurted out, her voice pitching defensively. Oh, how she _hated_ it when Calvin looked at her like that. It made her heart pound unpleasantly and her palms sweat. Holding up her phone, she continued. “And I can prove it.”

“Prove it? You mean—”

“I recorded it. I was just about to go show Mr. Jenkins.”

Calvin stared at her in shock. Then the stiffness in his jaw slackened and he said, “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Figured it was time to invest in my actions.” Veronica tried to smile, but it came out more like a guilt-ridden grimace.

“‘Three strikes, you’re out,’” said Meg, her voice muffled against Calvin.

Calvin frowned. “What?”

“‘Three strikes, you’re out.’” Meg tilted her head back to look at him. “Elle said that to me. She was trying to rile me up, Cal. She knows I’ve already had two strikes against me for violence. She knows that if she can provoke me into hitting her, I’ll get suspended.”

“So it was Elle again?”

Veronica nodded. She pressed _Play_ on the video and handed her cell to Calvin. As he watched, his grip on both the phone and Meg tightened, and when he saw Lorna wrench Meg’s hair he flinched and stroked her head.

Though Veronica had suspected that Meg and Calvin were more than friends for several months, it still disarmed her to see them act so cozy with one another. Up until yesterday, she’d never seen them so much as hold hands at school, but by the way they were holding each other now it was clear that they were no strangers to affection.

Jealously formed a lump in her throat and she tried to swallow it. It wasn’t as if Veronica had genuine feelings for Calvin—a small crush, yes, but the same could be said about most of the girls in their grade. Whenever she fantasized about the perfect date, he was the boy her mind always cast in the role of her boyfriend. Calvin represented an ideal more than anything; he was kind, smart, attractive, athletic, and, overall, a good person.

And yet, she couldn’t deny that a part of her heart wanted Calvin O’Keefe to hold her like he was holding Meg Murry now.

When the video ended, Calvin pulled out of the hug and looked Meg in the eyes. “We’re not gonna let her get away with this. Okay? We’re telling Principal Jenkins.”

“No, Calvin, you know he never does _anything_ —”

“Meg.” Even as Calvin ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, he said her name with such tenderness that Veronica felt like she was intruding on an intimate moment and took a compulsive step back. “We talked about this yesterday. I want to help, and here’s the perfect chance to do something! There’s no way Jenkins can watch that video and then pin it on you or just dismiss it, there’s absolutely no way. Please, my Meg, let me help you like you’ve helped me.”

Veronica’s face screwed up in confusion at that. Everybody loved Calvin; not counting yesterday when Tristan had provoked him, she’d never once known him to get teased or bullied. How on earth could Meg have helped him in a situation comparable to this one?

While Calvin’s words baffled Veronica, they had an entirely different effect on Meg. Her eyes grew watery and her fingers clutched at the fabric of his gym shirt. “He didn’t help you either, Cal,” she whispered, so quietly that Veronica barely heard her.

Calvin’s face grew strangely somber. “I didn’t have proof.”

Proof? Of what?

“Yes, you did.”

“Nothing as concrete as this.”

“ _Calvin._ ”

“ _Meg_.”

They said each other’s names as if they were saying far more. Meg’s voice was frustrated, yet afraid; Calvin’s was firm, yet pleading.

Veronica marveled at the way the couple spoke without speaking. It was like they had forgotten she was there. Somehow they managed to communicate without words; a furrowed brow here and a soft touch there; a frown, then a sigh.

Finally, Meg gave in. “Okay.” She looked at Veronica. “But I still don’t trust her.”

It took all of Veronica’s willpower not to give an indignant huff in response. She’d recorded that video to help Meg, and yet the myopic outcast was acting as if Veronica was the one who’d broken her locket, not Elle. But her rational side flicked at her, reminding her of what Calvin had told her the other day: _You can’t expect to heal four years worth of bullying and broken trust in a day._

So Veronica buried her pride and followed the couple as they took off toward the school office.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Jenkins is currently speaking with another student.” Mr. Armand stapled a stack of papers with far more force than needed. All three kids cringed at the aggressive noise. “You may sit and wait for him to finish.”

Calvin sat between Meg and Veronica. The silence that followed was unbearably awkward, and Veronica found herself itching to do something, say something, to fill it. She noticed Meg fiddling with her locket, attempting to put the two broken pieces back together. After a minute, the curly haired girl let out a dejected sigh and resigned herself to studying the picture of her father inset within the locket.

Veronica couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “I’m sure you can get it fixed, Meg.”

“That’s not—it’s not—” Meg spent a second searching for her words, then clammed up and buried her face in her hands. She always looked funny when she did that—her fingers slipped under her glasses and pushed them up past her eyebrows. It made it hard for Veronica to take her seriously.

Calvin rubbed Meg’s shoulder soothingly and addressed Veronica. “She knows she can get it fixed, but it’s not it _being_ broken that’s upsetting. It’s that it _was_ broken. The action, not the result; the fact that someone would intentionally break something that’s clearly so important to her.”

Fiddling with her phone, Veronica snapped the corner of her marbled case on and off. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Reading her so well. How can you understand how she’s feeling with just a glance?”

Calvin pinched his lips together and paused to think. Finally he mumbled vaguely, “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Veronica, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ Shakespeare. British.” He gave a short laugh, as if he had just referenced an inside joke.

Veronica frowned in frustration. “I don’t understand.”

“I just mean…we’ve been through more together than you’d think. Or believe. That’s how.”

“But you’ve only been together for like, four months.”

“Five.”

“Still, I was friends with her for years, and I could never—”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Meg grumbled.

Veronica crossed her arms and glowered. If Meg didn’t want them to talk about her, she thought irritably, then she should speak for herself instead of making Calvin do it.

Calvin, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by his girlfriend’s snippiness. He whispered something in her ear and tried to take her hand in his, but Meg winced and pulled away. It was then that both Calvin and Veronica saw the reddening bruises on her knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?” exclaimed Calvin.

“I, um…I punched a locker. It was either that or Elle, and…I can’t get suspended, Cal. I can’t do that to Mom, not after everything. She doesn’t deserve to sit through another one of those awful parent-teacher conferences, being forced to listen to how messed up everyone thinks our family is.”

Calvin sighed but nodded in understanding. He pressed one kiss to her temple and another to her knuckles. Meg blushed a deep red and rested her head on his shoulder.

Once again, it was as if the couple had forgotten that they weren’t alone. Their fingers gingerly threaded together, bruised knuckles beside bruised knuckles. Veronica couldn’t help but break the spell with an awkward laugh.

“You’re matching.” Even as the words left her mouth, she noticed for the first time that both teens were wearing bracelets. “In more ways than one…”

Calvin and Meg exchanged an unreadable glance while Veronica tried to get a better look at the bracelets. Meg’s was silver, with a moon and stars etched into the metal band, while Calvin’s was made of leather and had a golden charm in the shape of a star. No, wait—it was a _starfish_ , not a star. Veronica blinked at the odd choice. Why would Meg choose a starfish and not something more emblematic of Calvin, like a basketball? Then again, she didn’t know for sure if those bracelets were gifts they had exchanged, or if it was simply a mere coincidence that they were both wearing a bracelet today. Yet the more Veronica watched the two, the more convinced she became that yes, despite the fact that they didn’t match, those were indeed couple bracelets.

A flash of envy jolted through her. What was next—promise rings?

Principal Jenkins’ door swung open and a sixth grader scurried out. A moment later Mr. Jenkins stepped out of his office. When he saw the three teens, his expression soured and he let out a defeated sigh.

“Who’s first?”

All three stood. Jenkins waited expectantly for one of them to step forward, but when no one did he rubbed his face and beckoned them inside.

The principal’s office was relatively small. A framed map of South Los Angeles hung on the blue-grey wall directly behind the desk, right above a bureau hosting an array of familial photos. Fastened next to the window was a bulletin board overflowing with flyers and photographs. But despite the personal touches, the room had a formal and authoritarian aura that made Veronica uneasy.

“So.” Mr. Jenkins settled into his chair and folded his hands as the kids sat before him. “Who has done what to whom today?”

Veronica’s heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest. Slowly she unlocked her phone, queued up the video, and handed it to Mr. Jenkins. Neither she nor the couple beside her said a word.

Their principal watched the video with a tired expression that quickly morphed into surprise, then pity, and then finally a stern frown.

When the video ended, Meg dumped the broken pieces of her locket on Mr. Jenkins’ desk. Calvin circled an arm around her shoulders and leveled a firm stare at their principal, as if daring him to belittle Meg in any way.

“Is there any reason as to why Elle would do something like this?” Though Mr. Jenkins tried to keep his voice even, Veronica saw him cast a suspicious look at Meg, whose shoulders slumped with resignation. She, it seemed, had expected this.

Calvin’s face flushed with anger; he too had noticed their principal’s cynical gaze. “Reason? What do you mean, _reason_?”

“I simply meant—”

“You meant, ‘Did Meg do something to cause this’, right?”

Mr. Jenkins rested his elbows on his desk and leaned forward. “Did she?”

“No!” Calvin shouted. Meg quickly reached up to where his hand cradled her shoulder and squeezed it. The action seemed to placate him, and when he continued his voice was much softer, more diplomatic, though still laced with a smidge of indignation. “Meg’s done _nothing_ wrong. She’s the victim here. The video proves that. Elle and Lorna are the girls you should be reprimanding, not Meg.”

Their old science teacher observed the couple as if he were watching an experiment unfold. Veronica stared at them too; it was almost unnatural to see Calvin lose his cool and Meg calm him down, instead of the other way around.

Maybe she didn’t know the pair as well as she thought.

Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat and leaned back. “Well then. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Has anything like this happened before?”

Meg looked at Calvin, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes still on her boyfriend. “Elle and Lorna have been hassling me all year. Tristan, too.”

“It’s true,” Veronica spoke up. “I’ve…um…” A mixture of fear and hubris washed over her, and instead of admitting her own past involvement she stammered out, “I-I’ve witnessed it, uh, before.”

Meg shrunk deeper into her chair, and Calvin gave Veronica a look of such sheer disappointment that she felt sick. But neither contradicted her claim.

“I wish you had come to me sooner, Margaret,” said Mr. Jenkins with a scowl. “And Veronica, I’m disappointed that you didn’t at least attempt to intervene. Please email me that video in its entirety. I’ll speak with Elle and Lorna and call their parents, and I’ll also recommend that they pay to have this necklace fixed or replaced if they don’t want to compound their punishments. Now”—he tore three yellow late passes off a pad of paper and scrawled his signature across each one—“There’s still about twenty minutes left in class. Give these to Ms. Stewart, and I do hope this is the last time I see _any_ of you in my office this year.”

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and the teens shuffled out of the office. Mr. Armand shot them a wary glance as they passed. A few steps into the hall, Meg faltered and gripped her fractured locket to her heart with trembling hands. Calvin caught her and said her name, and a long second passed before Meg crumbled into his arms and started crying.

“He did something,” Veronica heard her say, “He finally _did_ something. Thank you, thank you.”

Hugging her tight, Calvin swept her off her feet and twirled her around until Meg actually laughed. When he set her down, she had a tearful and almost bewildered smile plastered across her face.

Veronica felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She’d never imagined that Meg would have such a euphoric reaction over what Veronica herself viewed as quite a small victory. The last time she’d seen her smile this wide was on the day her father had returned. And that, she knew all too well, was her fault. She and her friends had pushed Meg to this point, to the point of believing that she would never get any justice for the wrongs dealt her. Meg had pushed back, certainly, but that had only ever blown up in her own face, and she’d always been reprimanded and labeled the troublemaker whilst her tormenters had been cast as the victims. Even now, Veronica had assumed the role of the innocent bystander—or worse, the Good Samaritan—instead of the taunting bully, and had managed to slip away unpunished yet again.

It wasn’t as if Mr. Jenkins had believed Meg, either. He’d believed Calvin, and Veronica, and the video. Without them to back her up, he probably wouldn’t have given her the time of day.

And then, slowly, the realization of what Veronica had done to her friends dawned on her. She’d been so focused on Meg that she hadn’t processed the fact that, by showing Mr. Jenkins the video, she’d just actively betrayed two of her closest friends. Oh, heavens. If Elle found out…

“Veronica.”

Meg’s voice snapped Veronica out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the other girl fiddling with the hem of her shirt and staring at the floor. She peeked up at Veronica and cleared her throat.

“Thank you. Without that video, I…” Her voice trailed off and it took her a moment before she could speak again. “Thank you.”

Veronica tapped her nails against the plastic of her phone in an anxious manner and said, a mite hopefully, “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“No. But…” She looked up at Calvin, whose eyes shone with pride. Meg turned her attention back to Veronica. “It’s not off the table. I need…I need time. For now…truce?”

She stuck her hand out toward Veronica, who, after a stunned moment, reached out and shook it.

“Truce.”

Meg smiled—actually _smiled_ —at Veronica, and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “Oh, and, uh, I’m sorry I threw a basketball in your face.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you. I was being a jerk.” Veronica tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat and she coughed instead.

A couple awkward seconds passed before Calvin said, “We should get back to class.”

Veronica tucked her phone into her back pocket and tried to ignore the fact that her hands were shaking. “You guys go on ahead. I’m gonna, uh, use the bathroom.”

Meg and Calvin nodded and started walking to the field as Veronica crossed the hall to the bathroom. Before she went inside, she spared one last glance over her shoulder. The couple had stopped at the end of the empty hall and were talking in hushed voices. As Veronica watched, Calvin bent down and kissed Meg. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back without so much as a sliver of uncertainty.

Veronica closed her eyes and turned away, swallowing hard. As she pushed open the bathroom door her legs grew wobbly beneath her and she nearly stumbled into the white-tiled room. Arms outstretched, her hands found the hard edge of the porcelain sink. She hunched over it and tried to control her unsteady breathing.

The weight of the past half-hour—had only that much time really passed?—hit Veronica with full force. She splashed water on her face with trembling hands. Her mind swam with a tangled jumble of thoughts and emotions: guilt for the pain she’d caused Meg in the past, more guilt she now felt for betraying her friends, fear of what Elle might do if she found out that Veronica had snitched, and a persisting, all-too-familiar self-loathing.

The mirror hanging above the sink seemed to taunt her until finally she gave in and looked up. All the times Veronica had scrutinized herself in the mirror, dissatisfied with what she saw, and she’d never noticed what an awful excuse for a person she had truly been. Until now.

Veronica retreated into a stall, sat on the toilet, and cried.


	4. Friday

* * *

  **FRIDAY.**

Meg hated the cafeteria. Too many voices, too many eyes, too many smells, too many _people_. She longed for the solitude of her and Calvin’s maple tree. But after what had happened with Tristan the other day, solitude was unsafe. There was no guarantee that Tristan and his buddies wouldn’t try to confront Calvin for breaking Tristan’s nose, and if they cornered them at their old lunch spot, no teachers would hear them fight.

Calvin sat beside her now, looking far more comfortable than she felt. Before they had started hanging out, the cafeteria was where he’d spent most of his time during lunch; there, and the basketball court. He, Jaime, and Deandre were discussing some video game Meg had never heard of. Seeing him having fun made her happy, even if she couldn’t shake off her own discomfort.

While talking with his friends, Calvin would often remind Meg that he hadn’t forgotten her by leaning into her shoulder, touching her knee, or tapping his foot against hers. Anyone else might’ve found this annoying, but Meg appreciated his reassuring touches. It helped her feel less like a fish out of water. Maybe a fish in a tighter, busier aquarium, but at least she could breathe.

A loud commotion sounded behind them. She turned and saw Veronica slowly rise from her and her friends’ table. Her book bag, which Meg remembered had been sitting on the bench beside her when she and Calvin walked into the cafeteria, was now on the ground. Papers, notebooks, and pens had spilled everywhere. Standing on top of the mess was Elle.

“Oops,” simpered Elle. “Sorry, snitch.”

Even from where she sat several tables away, Meg saw Veronica’s face flood with alarm. Sympathy and guilt tugged at her heartstrings. Her ex-friend had come to her aid yesterday; now, because of that, she was the one incurring Elle’s wrath. Despite Veronica’s past crimes, it was hard for Meg not to pity her.

Elle placed her hands on Veronica’s shoulders, her teeth flashing in the light as she smiled sweetly. She leaned in close and whispered something in her ear, not unlike how she’d whispered in Meg’s ear yesterday. The memory of Elle’s hot breath tickling her skin made her shudder. Immediately, Calvin touched her arm.

Adriana looked furious, but her glare was directed at Elle, not Veronica. Yet next to her, Lorna’s betrayed eyes were fixed on Veronica, her mouth bowed into a steely frown.

Meg couldn’t help but relate the situation to her beloved math: chaos theory, and, more specifically, the butterfly effect. One change, one decision, risked causing their entire group to implode. Veronica, the butterfly, had chosen to flap her wings. The result: Hurricane Elle.

The two girls separated. Elle sat triumphantly on the now-empty bench while Veronica hastily gathered up her stuff, shoved it all into her bag, and scurried away. Whatever Elle had told her was enough to make her flee. With a sigh, Meg turned her back. Though she felt guilty, there wasn’t anything she could do.

“Ay, Veronica,” Jaime called out suddenly. “Come sit with us, if you want.”

Meg’s mouth fell open and she glanced at Calvin. He was looking at Jaime in shock. Clearly, he hadn’t expected his buddy to ask the girl who used to bully his girlfriend to sit with them. They’d cemented a truce with Veronica, sure, but neither he nor Meg had expected that would mean they would start actively hanging out with her.

Veronica appeared just as startled as them. Her eyes darted toward Meg like she was asking for her permission. Meg hesitated, then nodded, tipping her nose up a mite snobbishly. As long as they didn’t talk to each other, she didn’t foresee this becoming a massive problem.

Jaime made room for Veronica on the bench beside him and smiled at her. She gave him a thankful, almost shy smile in return, but avoided eye contact and didn’t speak. Jaime wilted.

For a spell, everything was peaceful. Calvin, Jaime, and Deandre chatted about sports and Deandre’s older brother, who had apparently won a photography competition last week. Both Meg and Veronica sat in silence, though Jaime did try in vain to talk with Veronica.

But the peace didn’t last long. Without warning, Adriana Gonzales left Elle’s table and marched over to theirs, plopping her brown paper bag down and sitting next to Veronica. Miguel Garcia-Rivera ambled after her like a puppy following his master.

Veronica’s eyes lit up when her friend sat next to her. Almost immediately, however, they dimmed with worry. “But Elle—”

“Screw Elle,” Adriana said firmly. “I only hung out with her because you did. Consider this liberty.” She glanced at Meg, a sour glint in her eye. “Well. More or less.”

An agitated heat crawled up Meg’s neck. This was exactly what she needed right now—to suffer Adriana’s scorn for the rest of lunch. She checked the time on her phone. Twenty more minutes to endure.

Calvin tugged gently on her bracelet, casting her a questioning look. Meg shrugged and pretended that anxiety wasn’t fossilizing in her stomach. He didn’t look convinced, but she refused to budge.

The table lapsed back into idle talk. Adriana and Miguel started speaking amongst themselves in Spanish. Jaime jumped in after a minute, saying something in a scolding tone and casting a worried glance at Calvin.

If Meg was awful at English, she was downright abominable at Spanish. Her report card sported a perpetual D in that class, and even though Calvin had tried to help her raise her grade, it was a hopeless cause. Meg excelled with numbers, not language.

But Calvin—the diplomat, as Charles Wallace loved to call him—soaked up languages like a sponge. Growing up in South LA hadn’t hurt, either. He was fluent enough in Spanish to converse easily with the Murry’s neighbor, the elderly Señor Rosario. As Adriana and Miguel continued to talk, Meg felt him grow tenser and tenser. Whatever they were saying clearly upset him. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey! _No hables así de ella._ ”

Adriana’s eyes widened and Miguel turned pink. Both mumbled an apology and didn’t say any more after that. Next to them, Veronica pinched the bridge of her nose.

Meg tugged on Calvin’s sleeve, whispering, “What just happened? What were they saying?”

“I don’t think you wanna know.”

That made her straighten her back and tilt her chin up stubbornly. “Tell me.”

Calvin bowed his head. “Please don’t ask me to repeat it. I can’t…I can’t say such hurtful things to you, even if they aren’t my words.”

So they _had_ been talking about her. She knew that if she asked him again, he’d tell her, but she didn’t want to do that to him. Instead, Meg crossed her arms and stared straight forward at his friend. “Jaime. What’d they say?”

Jaime looked hesitantly between her and Calvin. “Uh…are you sure you—”

“Someone just tell me!”

Adriana and Miguel squirmed. Meg kept expecting them to bolt, but neither did.

“They, um…” Jaime shifted in his seat and stared at the center of the table. “They said that Lorna’s right, that Calvin’s only dating you because he pities you. That you’re a, uh…a fling at best. Because who would want to date a…a…” His face and neck flushed red. “Look, my abuelita would smack me silly if she heard me say the last part. Just know that it was…really bad.”

“And not true.” Calvin took Meg’s hand in his and glared at Adriana and Miguel. “You guys act like us dating is something for me to be ashamed of. Well, guess what? I’m proud to be her boyfriend. Meg’s the best person I know, and just because you’re too blind to see how amazing she is doesn’t mean I am. And yes, we _have_ been dating since August.”

It was a bit hard to return to normal conversation after that. Adriana and Miguel sat in utter silence, unwilling to even lift their eyes from their food. Deandre tried to change the subject by asking about their upcoming history test and was met with clipped responses and awkward laughs. Once again, Jaime made an attempt to talk with Veronica, but if she was shy before she was completely withdrawn now, her entire face etched with embarrassment.

Meg’s mind flipped through so many different insults that Adriana and Miguel might’ve called her that she lost her appetite. She didn’t realize how tightly she was clutching Calvin’s hand until he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Are you okay? You’re cutting off the circulation in my fingers.”

“Oh.” Meg let go and folded her hands under the table. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“I’m…fine.”

“That was convincing.”

She elbowed him lightly. Calvin smiled, though it was thin with concern.

“Should I not’ve said all that earlier? Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I appreciate that you spoke up, I really do. It’s just…everyone hates us, Cal. I mean, they don’t hate you, but they hate that we’re together. They hate...me. Like, actually, completely _hate_ me. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, and I—I knew this would happen, I knew it, I knew it, I…I knew it...”

Meg choked on her words, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry. She jerked to her feet. All eyes fell on her as she nearly tripped scrambling over the table’s bench. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t cry in front of her peers, she just couldn’t.

Students lined the halls, sitting against lockers while eating their lunches. One glance told Meg that she’d never get into the music room without her classmates noticing. Instead she ran outside, straight for her and Calvin’s maple tree.

The tree had lost all its leaves and looked rather sad under the grey overcast sky. Meg sought out the most isolated side and slumped against its rough trunk. Sobs shook her shoulders; her insides felt like they were soaking in acid. Out of habit, she reached for her locket before remembering that it was at the jewelers. She cried even harder.

It came as no surprise when hands grasped her arms. She didn’t bother opening her eyes. She knew Calvin’s touch.

He pulled her into a firm hug and let her bawl noisily into his chest. Meg had cried several times these last few days, but none so hard or so long as this. Calvin rubbed her back and murmured reassuring words into her hair.

Between hiccups, she managed to say, “I hate being hated, Cal. It hurts, it hurts! Am I really that horrible?”

“You’re not horrible. Not at all.”

“Then why do they hate me so much?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry, my Meg. I don’t know.”

He’d defended her against Tristan, he’d helped her tell Jenkins about what Elle had done—but there was nothing Calvin could do to stop others from hating her.

By the time her eyes dried up, Meg’s head throbbed and her face stung like it’d been sunburnt. Mind and body, heart and limbs—every inch of her felt heavier than an anvil. Calvin stepped out of the hug and her head drooped forward.

He tilted her chin back up and brushed away a tear with his thumb. “C’mon. Let’s get you to the nurse.”

Her voice croaked. “But I’m not sick—”

“Tell her you have a migraine, and that it’s making you nauseous. I think I can convince your mom to come pick you up.”

Meg wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “Is Calvin O’Keefe trying to convince me to ditch school?”

“Calvin O’Keefe is trying to convince you that you need to go home and rest.” He took off her glasses and dried the lenses, then kissed both her eyelids softly. “This week has been hell for you, bright eyes, and I think you’ve earned yourself a three-day weekend. You deserve to go home, put on some fuzzy socks, and listen to your favorite podcast, or whatever you wanna do, and just relax.” 

His kisses made her sigh. No expectation, no greed; simply giving. She slipped her arms into his open bomber jacket and clasped her hands behind his back. If a teacher spotted them now, they’d get busted for PDA. But she didn’t care. “That sounds…really nice. Will you join me when you get home?”

“You know I will. And I’ll be sure to grab you a salted caramel mocha frappuccino.”

“Would you please?”

“No whip, extra drizzle.”

“I love you.” Tears sprung up in her eyes once more. She loved him, and people hated her for it. They’d hated her for years, but no one could deny that things had intensified now that their relationship had been made public.

Why couldn’t they just let her be happy?

“Meg?”

“Make it a venti.”

 

* * *

 

“Dr. Kate?”

“Calvin, is everything alright? Why are you calling?”

“Meg’s not doing well. Could you please come pick her up? She’s in with the nurse right now. I, um, told her to say that she has a migraine. She doesn’t, but she’s definitely got a bad headache from crying and I really think she needs to go home.”

“Did something else happen?”

“Nothing as bad as yesterday or the day before. Some kids said some awful stuff about her right in front of us. I think it’s all just too much. She’s reached her breaking point.”

“Alright. Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I was just getting ready to pick up Charles Wallace as well.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kate.”

 

* * *

 

Fridays were half-days for Charles Wallace’s kindergarten class. When Meg crawled into her mom’s Subaru he was already sitting in the backseat, a piece of paper in his hands. Without a word, he handed it to her.

He’d drawn her, floating in the center of the page, her curls billowing into a halo around her head and a relaxed smile on her face. Around her swirled colors and geometric shapes. Meg immediately recognized it as a tesser.

Her throat burned, and all she could do was reach over and squeeze his hand. Of course he knew she was hurting. He always did.

When she got home, she changed into pajama pants and Calvin’s rayon hoodie. After that, she plucked Rosie up from where the kitten had been sleeping and took her downstairs. Meg didn’t want to spend the afternoon alone in her attic.

As she passed by Calvin’s bedroom, an idea popped into her head. Since she’d been wearing his hoodie so often, the smell of _him_ had almost faded entirely from the blue fabric. So she slipped inside his room and stole his pillow off his neatly made bed, which looked a stark contrast to her horrendously messy one. Rosie meowed irritably as the pillow bumped her nose.

Meg curled up on the living room couch. She hadn’t intended to nap, but the hum of her cat purring beside her, the sound of a science podcast playing on her phone, and the soothing, familiar smell of eucalyptus against her cheek all worked together to gently lull her to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Calvin stared at his phone, a frown curving his mouth. Five hours had passed since Meg had gone home, and she hadn’t replied to any of his texts. She was probably sleeping, but that didn’t ease his worry.

He wished he could issue a PSA to the entire school and demand that everyone stop treating his girlfriend like trash. Yet he knew that no amount of censures or broken noses would change how the other kids felt about Meg. And that broke his heart.

Detention had cut into his basketball practice, and Coach Kim had made him run extra laps because of it. To be honest, he hadn’t minded; it’d helped him keep his mind off the events of that week. But as soon as he stepped out of the gym, all the frustrated energy he had dispelled returned, compounded by Meg’s radio silence.

The Murry’s Subaru rolled up in front of the gym. Dr. Kate sat in the driver’s seat with her hair tied up in a silk bandana and a pencil still stuck behind her ear. From those simple details, Calvin knew that she had been working in the lab before coming to get him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she told him as he climbed into the passenger seat. “The photodetector in our spectroscope is on the fritz.”

In truth, Calvin had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized that she was five minutes late. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Actually, could I, um, ask a favor?”

“Always.”

“I promised Meg that I’d get her coffee. Could we run by Starbucks? I still have leftover cash from when I mowed Mrs. Buncombe’s lawn a couple weeks ago.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Calvin. Of course.”

Unfortunately, the drive-thru line was horrendously long. Dr. Kate put the car in park and waited for the line to advance while Calvin drummed his fingers on his knee impatiently. After a while, the microbiologist glanced his way.

“What’s on your mind, hon?”

“Meg.”

“Ah. Should’ve known.” A knowing yet sad smile tugged at Dr. Kate’s mouth. “Last I saw, she was asleep on the couch. You were right; she needed to come home.”

Calvin chewed his lip; he bit too hard and winced. “I don’t…I don’t know how to help her.”

“Calvin, you have already helped her in so many ways.” The car in front of them moved forward. This momentarily diverted Dr. Kate’s attention, and she shifted into drive. They inched forward only a few feet before stopping once more. After putting the car back in park, she continued. “You told Principal Jenkins, me, and Alex about what that boy Tristan did to her. You convinced her to go to Principal Jenkins about her locket. And, while I don’t condone your use of violence, you stood up for her against Tristan. Trust me when I say that you doing that meant so much to her.”

Part of Calvin wanted to accept her reassurance and relax, but the other part still couldn’t shake off his discontent. “Even so, Meg’s so hurt. It’s like, every time something’s made right, another thing goes wrong. And despite doing everything I can, it’s still nowhere near enough. I feel so…useless.”

“Listen.” Dr. Kate turned her body so that she was completely facing Calvin. “Most men like to try and fix any problems that arise. That’s not gender roles or stereotypes, that’s legitimate psychology. That is why you’re feeling useless. Women are different. Right now, Meg doesn’t want a knight in shining armor. When she complains or confides in you, she’s not expecting you to fix things. She wants comfort, she wants reassurance, and more importantly, she wants you to be there for her. So take off the armor. Dote on her instead. Little things like getting her Starbucks to cheer her up is perfect. In doing so, you’re helping more than you realize. And if you’re ever unsure about what she wants, all you have to do is ask: ‘How can I help?’”

Calvin thought for a moment; then, he smiled at her. “Thank you. That…that makes me feel better.”

Dr. Kate returned his smile and patted his cheek. “Thank _you_ , Calvin. I’m so happy my daughter met you.”

“So am I.”

 

* * *

 

Throughout her five hour nap, Meg didn’t dream. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep. One moment, she was listening to Rosie purr beside her; the next, Calvin was gently shaking her awake.

“Hey, Nutmeg,” he whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

She grumbled and buried her face deeper into his pillow.

“I got you your coffee. Unless I decide to drink it all myself.”

That got her attention. Meg groggily sat up. “Don’t you dare.”

Calvin chuckled. He handed her the drink and she took a long, slow sip. It tasted exactly how she liked it. In lieu of a verbal thank you, she kissed his cheek.

As she drank her coffee, Calvin sat beside her and glanced over her shoulder. “Is that my pillow?”

Meg nodded sheepishly.

A pleased smile spread across his face. “That’s really cute.” His smile faded. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling?”

“Tired. Relieved that I don’t have to see our classmates until Monday. Dreading Monday.”

“If it’s any consolation, Jaime was worried about you after lunch. He asked me to tell you that he’s really sorry. He feels like it’s his fault ‘cause he translated for you.”

“I’m the one who demanded he tell me. And besides, he wasn’t the one who said those things. It was Adriana and Miguel.”

Calvin rubbed her shoulders. “What I’m trying to say, though, is that not everyone dislikes you. I think you and Jaime could be friends.”

“That’s just because he’s your friend. He probably feels obligated to like me because you do.”

“It’s not good to make assumptions about how others feel, Meg. It’ll only make you miserable.”

“I already am,” she whispered.

“Hey. C’mere.” Calvin beckoned her into a hug.

Meg started to burrow her face into his shirt, but then pulled back.

“Cal?”

“Hm?”

“You’re kinda sweaty. More than kinda, really.”

He laughed at that. “Sorry. Practice. I need a shower.”

“Good idea.”

Before he left, Calvin cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. It was a soft, slow kiss, the kind that is a promise, a comfort, and an apology all in one.

“I’ll be quick.”

 

* * *

 

When Calvin came downstairs, his hair wet and skin flushed from the shower, he found Meg and Charles Wallace in the kitchen. They were sitting at the island, putting water in a large jar partially filled with popcorn kernels. As he walked over, Meg poured vinegar into a tablespoon and dumped it in the jar.

“What’re you guys up to?”

“Conducting a little experiment,” replied Charles Wallace with a smile.

Meg smiled as well, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hopping corn.”

“‘Hopping corn’?” repeated Calvin, leaning over the island.

She nodded, and put five more tablespoons of vinegar in the jar. Then she grabbed a container of baking soda. “When I add this, you’ll see what I mean.”

Curiosity filled Calvin as he watched Meg dump two tablespoons of baking soda into the jar. Immediately the liquid in the jar foamed and expanded, bubbling over the rim and onto the paper towels they’d placed atop the island. Within seconds the foam cleared. The kernels had risen to the surface. Bubbles clung to them, then disappeared and dropped the kernels back to the bottom of the jar. More bubbles formed on the kernels, which made them float quickly back to the top, where the entire cycle started over again. The bubbles disappeared, the kernels dropped to the bottom, collected more bubbles, and promptly rose again. 

Meg was right. It did look like the corn was hopping.

“So how’s this happening?” Calvin asked. “Like, what’s the science behind it?”

“Well,” began Meg, “when baking soda and vinegar react together, they create carbon dioxide.”

“Which are the bubbles,” Charles Wallace clarified. “The bubbles lift the corn to the top, where they pop, and the kernels sink to the bottom and collect more carbon dioxide. It lasts about an hour.”

Calvin peered at the jar. “What would happen if you added food coloring? Would that change the chemistry at all?”

A grin spread across Charles Wallace’s face. “Calvin, I like the way your mind works.”

Meg got up to get some food coloring, and Calvin sat next to her brother. With a glance over his shoulder, Charles Wallace leaned close to Calvin and whispered to him.

“She’s pretending to be fine for my sake, but she’s really not. Thanks for looking out for her earlier. This whole week, really.”

“She told you?”

“She didn’t have to.”

“Don’t talk about me.” Meg came up beside them and dropped the food coloring on the counter. Her face had soured. “I’ve had enough of that this week.”

Charles Wallace took her hand. “Meg, we meant well.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…I’m tired.”

“Then why are we just sitting around?” Her brother hopped off the stool. “We need to have a pajama party, forthwith.”

His suggestion and odd new word for the day brought a small smile back to Meg’s face. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll go build the fort. You guys get the food. Nothing too filling. Daddy’s getting pizza.” Before he left, Charles Wallace shot Calvin a meaningful look.

Once alone with her boyfriend, Meg’s facade fell completely and she slumped over the island. Calvin stood and touched her shoulder.

“Hey. How can I help?”

She only shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel so stupid.”

“Stupid? Why?”

“This shouldn’t affect me so much. I shouldn’t feel so stupidly upset over the stupid opinions of people who’ve always hated me and who probably always will.”

Slowly, Calvin turned her to face him. “It’s okay to be upset, Meg. It’s okay to be angry, and it’s okay to be hurt. But those people—in the long run, they don’t matter. The people who love you are the people who matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Her voice swelled louder with frustration. “Everybody loves you!”

“You know that’s not true.”

It took her a moment to understand. Meg’s eyes grew wide, and she hid her face in her hands. “Oh—Cal, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Calvin pulled her hands down, cradled her face, and met her teary gaze. “It’s okay. Okay? I’m not mad, and you’re not stupid. You, Meg Murry, are my best friend, and I love you. Your mom loves you, your dad loves you, your brother loves you. Focus on that. Trust in that.”

Lip trembling, Meg blinked away her tears. “I’ll try.”

Calvin gingerly dried her face with the sleeve of his sweater. “Hey. I forgot to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Guess who I saw in detention today.”

“Elle?”

“And Lorna. And Tristan.”

“No way.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Tristan too?”

“Tristan too.”

Meg sucked in a deep breath; when she released it, her whole body relaxed and a tiny smile curved her mouth. “Serves him right.”

They hugged, warm and tight.

 

* * *

 

Charles Wallace lounged back onto a stack of pillows and idly snacked on popcorn. _Mythbusters_ played on the TV, but he wasn’t watching. Instead, his eyes were on his sister and her boyfriend.

They’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d crawled into the cozy blanket fort he’d built. Meg was nestled against Calvin with her glasses skewed to the side, her head on his shoulder, and her hair obscuring most of his face. His arms held her securely, and one of his hands cradled the back of her head. Charles Wallace had draped a blanket over them and turned down the volume of the show to help them sleep peacefully. Heaven knows they needed it.

Even asleep, Meg’s face was bunched up into a scowl. Grey tendrils of sadness curled off her like wisps of smoke. She hadn’t told him what had happened at school, but Charles Wallace knew it had something to do with mean classmates. It hurt his soul to see his sister so upset.

Yesterday had been bad enough with her broken locket, but the day before that had been even worse. When Meg had come home on Wednesday afternoon, a strange fear had clung to her, fear unlike any Charles Wallace had ever felt before. She’d barely said a word to him and had immediately run upstairs to take a shower. The fear had diminished a bit after that, and even more so after Calvin had come home.

As much as he hated to admit it, Charles Wallace did not know everything. He knew many things, granted, things most adults did not and would never know. He knew some stars had souls, that the wind often gossiped with the trees; he knew too well the mind of pure darkness, and that there truly is such a thing as a tesseract. Even so, he was young, and unfortunately that meant some degree of ignorance.

Charles Wallace tried to look on the bright side, and he took comfort in the fact that, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven”—Ecclesiastes, Jewish. He would learn these unknowns when the time was right.

However, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know why both his sister and his strong, composed mother had come downstairs with tears in their eyes after discussing Wednesday’s events.

Calvin knew why, and so did his knuckles. Charles Wallace hadn’t missed the fact that the older boy’s hand was cracked and bruised from striking something—or someone. Anger and worry still poured from those cracks, coiling around his fingers like crimson snakes.

He knew that Calvin could give his sister comfort when he could not, and he knew that Meg would confide in Calvin about things too…grown-up, perhaps, for Charles Wallace. Which was why now, even as their individual troubles nagged at them, a blanket of security had settled over their sleeping frames. They were safe here, in the Murry home. In each other’s arms.

This was their fight, not his. He accepted that. Still, Charles Wallace was determined to aid their cause by continuing to remind his sister of his love and support.


	5. Monday

* * *

  **MONDAY.**

Nausea chewed at Meg’s stomach as she and Calvin descended the stone steps into the front courtyard of their school. Students milled about, congesting the space. That combined with her nagging anxiety made it hard to breathe.

“Meg?” Calvin hovered a few steps below her. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” she whispered.

He climbed the steps until he was eye level with her. “Hey. Remember the whirlwind on Camazotz? You turned and ran right back at it without hesitation. You can face anything if you put your mind to it. I know you can.”

“Yeah, well, storms are easier to face than people.”

With a small, encouraging smile, Calvin clasped her hand in his. "But you don’t have to face them alone.”

Meg took a shaky breath and concentrated on the feeling of his thumb lightly stroking her knuckles. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”

“First…may I kiss you?”

She responded by cupping his neck and kissing him. People were probably taking notice of them, but Meg tried not to think about that. Instead, she tuned her mind like a radio, focusing her thoughts on Calvin. She could feel him, not just against her mouth and beneath her fingers, but in her mind and heart, like she had the night he’d first told her that he loved her. His strength, his calm, his love, even worry for her that he was trying to box away—she could feel it all.

At their lockers, Meg hesitated to open hers. No notes were taped to the outside, but that didn’t mean that no one had slipped something through the vent grille. Slowly she unlocked her locker and looked inside.

There were around ten scraps of paper laying atop her textbooks; one fell out as the door swung open. Meg looked to where it had fallen and a few choice words caught her eye. She cringed.

Calvin snatched it up and crumpled it into a ball. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“That one was from Tristan,” Meg said quietly.

“How do you know? It’s not signed.”

“I recognize his handwriting. There’s another one in here from him. It basically says the same thing as that one. Just with a bit more, um, embellishment. And a, uh...drawing.”

When he saw the note she was referring to, Calvin swore under his breath. He ripped it apart.

Meg grabbed all the notes and marched across the hall to dump them in the trash. Elle’s handwriting had stuck out to her, but other than hers and Tristan’s, Meg hadn’t recognized the handwriting on any of the other remaining scraps of paper. It appeared that at least four other people had sent her notes. She tried to keep her face neutral as she returned to Calvin, but she needn’t bother. He saw straight through her. Concern weighed down the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t wanna focus on it,” she declared firmly, even as the back of her throat burned. “Like you said. Shifting focus.”

It became a routine; every morning, Calvin threw away any notes left in her locker, Meg refusing to read a single word. They sat with Jaime and Deandre at lunch while, much to Jaime’s poorly-disguised disappointment, Veronica sat with Adriana and Miguel at a different table. As the week went on, the number of notes Meg received dwindled. By the time Friday morning rolled around, she opened her locker to find it empty.

Elle’s clique continued to shoot her glares, and Tristan would often make it a point to shoulder past both Meg and Calvin in the halls. It was hard for him to look intimidating, however, with a giant white bandage across his nose. Whenever his eyes met Calvin’s, he quickly averted his gaze like a skittish dog.

They still hated her. That hadn’t changed. It might never.

But Calvin still loved Meg, and she still loved him. That hadn’t changed either.

It might never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...with this latest work, I have officially written 66,892 words for this fic series, which is around 280 pages (double spaced). That is...insane.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


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